


(breathe easy)

by Formalwearbananasuit



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Chrom doesnt marry, Dreams, Festivals, Flowers, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, Illness, M/M, Sharing a Bed, dont think too hard about it, henry is here bc i looooooove him, robin is dumb and gay, set after the war in Plegia but before Valm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-07-25 21:13:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16205777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Formalwearbananasuit/pseuds/Formalwearbananasuit
Summary: He’s going to kill me, Robin thought, even as he leaned into Chrom’s touch, even as he sat with Chrom through the night, even as he stayed despite everything. There really couldn’t have been a more fitting end.Hanahaki Disease AU





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> _But could youth last, and love still breed,_   
>  _Had joys no date, nor age no need,_   
>  _Then these delights my mind might move_   
>  _To live with thee, and be thy love. ___

Despite what Cordelia’s novels might lead you to believe, some of the most important moments of your life will not occur on schedule or in a timely manner. They will not appear on a solstice, or at the perfect full mooned midnight. Time will not stop, and you will not have company. You cannot control the most important moments of your life, you can only desperately clutch at the reins, hoping to steer yourself away from the brink, or willing towards it, when you find no other solution.

Robin, huddled over on the bed and wheezing for air notices this sharply and comes to the following conclusion: While it is true that there are far more “worst moments” than “best moments”, the best moments are by far worth experiencing before the inevitable fall. Perhaps that is the nature of life; suffering often just to get a glimpse of the sun. 

+

It began like all bad stories did. At the beginning. 

“There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know… give me your hand.”

Robin’s breath was taken away momentarily by a man with beautiful eyes and a kind smile. And something else. Something nagging in the back of his head, a memory begging to be noticed. It hurt to think about, so Robin did not think. He just nodded. 

+

“Chrom.”

Chrom slammed a hand into the wall, “I just don’t get it, who is he?” He turned swiftly and resumed his pacing.

“Chrom.”

“He has to be connected somehow right? He had my sword for Naga’s sake, he came through a fucking portal! What the hell kind of a name is ‘Marth’ anyway, god, who would name their kid that?”

“CHROM!”

He blinked, “Huh, sorry?”

Robin sighed from where he sat at his desk. Books piled the tables and floor. Crickets chirped from the darkness outside. A small lantern was the only illumination in the room. It cast eerie shadows across the wall as Robin moved a hand to massage one temple and Chrom ran a hand through his hair sheepishly. 

“Does it matter who he is if he’s helping us? He stopped an assassination attempt on your both your life and your sister’s. I hate to say we should trust strangers, but don’t we have bigger issues than masked vigilantes?” 

He frowned, Robin would say pouted, even. A feeling of fondness struck him so suddenly he couldn’t help but smile at Chrom and his disheveled hair.

“I see where you’re coming from but,” Chrom sighed walking closer to the desk, “It just feels like we’re missing something big, you know?”

“Well whatever it is I’m sure we’ll find it soon enough. Gangrel’s never been one to hold his cards well, and if he bleeds,”

Chrom grinned, “We can kill him.” 

Robin felt a sharp pang in his chest, somewhere buried beneath his skin and inside his rib cage. He let out a soft gasp, the air leaving him with dull ache.

“Are you okay?” Chrom asked, leaning forward in concern. 

Robin took a shaky breath, hand on his chest, and nodded. 

+

Robin pinched his brow and let out a sigh, “I hear you've been going on patrol with the couple of the men.”

Chrom gave a guilty smile, obviously not feeling poor in the slightest sense. “Only to patrol the immediate area.”

“...You know what I'm going to say, don't you?”

“That it's too risky, and I need to be more careful.” Chrom rolled his eyes, “Yes, thank you, mother.”

Robin frowned, feeling that fear that gaped inside of him only grow larger at Chrom’s flippancy. It was a serious matter! Chrom could very easily bite the dust out there, and Robin would never know. “If you know this, then why-“

Chrom splayed his hands, “Look. I understand enemies could be lying in wait to try and kill me... But there could also be others who need my help! There's a war going on, and people are suffering. I can't ignore them. I won't.”

“So why not send your men to search for these hapless innocents?!” 

“Because.”

Robin felt a headache spring to life in the back of his skull. “Becauuuse...?”

Chrom suddenly took a step closer, placing a hand on Robins shoulder. The contact felt like pins and needles, and Robin felt a strange tickle in the back of his throat. He resisted the simultaneous urges to run away and lean into the touch.  
“ Because...of you.” Chrom said, smiling, “If I hadn't been there—if Frederick alone had found you—would we have ever met?”

Robin swallowed, “ ...Probably not.”

“You see? And it's not just you, Robin. It's everyone like you. I know going out there exposes me to danger, and I haven't always been careful. But it's a risk I'm willing to take in order to connect with the people. To forge bonds.” 

“Bonds,” Robin echoed softly, or tried to. The vowels caught in his throat and twisted, ragged coughing suddenly sprung from his lips as he turned away, covering his mouth with one hand. 

“Robin! Are you alright?” He could feel the weight of Chrom’s hand on his shoulder and the weight of the ground pushing up against his feet. Robin fought for breath as his head was flooded with a sudden dizziness. 

It took him another couple seconds still to catch his breath. He could feel concern coming off Chrom in waves.

Oh how the tables have turned... Robin felt too ragged for a wittier idea.

“Maybe you should go see Lissa.” Chrom said, patting him gently on the back.

“Yeah, maybe,”

“Robin,”

He stood up straighter and smiled, “Now who’s the mom?” 

Chrom relaxed slightly, but still looked concerned.

Later that night in the safety of his own tent Robin rubbed his chest. His throat felt fine, nothing was rattling in his chest, he didn’t feel sick… then why the sudden vertigo? 

Perhaps it was just a random spell of illness, or maybe he had swallowed wrong, but Robin had a hard time shaking the feeling of dread deep in his gut. 

+

Sunlight gleamed off Robin’s sword as he parried an axe and sent a flash of lighting in retaliation. The Plegian soldier screamed and lit up in blinding light before falling to the earth as a charred corpse. 

He breathed heavily, trying not to get too distracted by the glare of the setting sun and spun around, looking for foes to fell. 

Robin sees one, and their hair is shocked with static electricity. Another, and he pulls his sword out of their neck. Fighting, maiming, killing, it all came so easily to Robin, as easily as the statistics and strategies he saw in his mind’s eye, yet there was no time to focus on morality or forgotten pasts when his life was at stake. 

It is silent, for one moment, then two, and Robin glances about to see Sully stepping back, satisfied, to see Maribelle leaning over Vaike and helping him to his feet. It was over, Robin breathed a sigh of relief, before something knocked into him and grabbed onto him.

Robin struggled and panicked for a moment before he saw gleaming silver armor and a huge sword at the side and blue hair and a laugh like church bells in his ear. Chrom hangs over him, laughing joyously and Robin is so relieved to see him unhurt his legs feel weak. 

“We did it Robin! We held the line! There’ll be drinks tonight!” Chom declares, and he looks so radiant then, standing in the dying sunlight. His eyes are shining with mirth and the pure happiness of survival, his face and arms are dirty, rubbed with mud and blood and tattered clothes, his laugh rings like bells and echoes off the walls of Robin’s mind and his voice is sonorous and joyous and Robin feels overwhelmed and relieved and happy and feeling as if he were about to cry all at once. 

He realizes, in that dying light, with the reds and oranges reflecting off Chrom’s armor, and Chrom’s strong arms around his shoulders and shaking him with glee, that he would do anything to see this man this happy. Anything to see him well, anything to help him and destroy those who hurt him. Give anything to cherish him. 

Robin laughs with Chrom, and the realization that he’s in love unfolds in his chest with a warmth and oppressive sadness. 

Robin reaches out to touch Chrom, just because he can, and lays his palms flat on Chrom’s breastplate. He laughs laughs laughs all the way until the moon is high and the Shepherds are finally to sleep. 

And then he cries, for there is no doubt in his mind that Chrom does not love him.

+

In the time it took them to venture to Plegia and lose Emmeryn’s life, the castle did not change. It’s winding stone passageways stayed the same, as did the great hall, every window still crystalline and radiant. The rooms stayed the same, and so did the servants, picking up right where they left off. A new ruler and a new man, but still a ruler. Still a man. What also did not change was Robin’s cough; it remained persistent throughout the weeks with little sign of betterment. 

Robin pressed a hand to his sternum, breathing in slowly and deeply. He could almost seem to feel light fluttering in his lungs, tickling enough to be noticed, but just faint enough to not trigger a reflex. He cleared his throat and the feeling seemed to dissipate. Perhaps nothing then. 

He knew better. 

Robin stood, pacing around a desk covered in books and papers and strategy, he hadn’t yet forgotten his old desk, a shoddy collapsible thing, but still a reliable table. In fact, he hadn’t quite gotten used to any of this. The castle was truly beautiful, flawless white stonework, huge stain glass windows, richly dyed upholstery, it was all an obvious sign of Ylisse’s warmongering past, yet Emmeryn had made it work. Chrom makes it work now, or at least he’s trying to. 

Robin paused at his window, resting a hand on the sill and pushing the pane open. He closed his eyes against the gentle breeze and thought about Chrom standing tall and beautiful before the people of Ylisse, denying exaltdom in memory of sister. Perhaps the reason why Robin could not adjust to the castle life was just because his first memories had been on the road, or perhaps it was just because with a country to run, Chrom would have other things to do than be with Robin. 

He sighed and leaned back from the window. He was about to pick up another book before there was knock at his door. 

“Come in,” he called. 

Chrom poked his head in, when he laid eyes on Robin he smiled and Robin could felt a tell tale tightness in his chest as he smiled back. 

“Hey Robin, can I borrow you for a second?”

Robin set the book down, “Of course, what do you need?”

“Ah, well I was wondering if you had any ideas for making the citizens of Ylisse feel more secure, even though we’ve won the war with Plegia…” Chrom trailed off for a moment, and Robin huffed a laugh.

“Getting your war tactician in aid in domestic matters? Isn’t that a little counter intuitive?” 

Chrom smiled, “You’re my best tactician and my friend, if it would be anybody it would be you,”

Robin walked over as Chrom opened the door wider, “I’m your only tactician,’

“What? No, we have-”

Robin laughed, “Your only good tactician, Chrom. I’m only joking, “

Chrom chuckled good naturedly, “Well come on then, I need ideas.”

Robin followed Chrom through what felt like a ridiculous amount of hallways before they stopped before a small study. Inside was decorated in a similar manner to the rest of the castle, dark woods, fine carpets and blankets, and plenty of shelves with all manner of maps, knick knacks, and reading material. 

Robin sat at the circular table in the center of the room, “Okay so you’re worried about the morale of the people, right? That with a new leader, especially one who was commander in chief, they’re afraid of another war and more suffering, right?”

Chrom took a seat across from him, “Exactly.”

“Well for starters simple things like not being in conflict will do a lot, the people of Ylisse are poor, and mostly all farmers, they are hit the hardest by war. You could also give tax breaks, that would surely aid in finances, however you will have to talk to the lords and ladies of the land to ensure they’ll follow that order.

Chrom hummed, “What else could we do?”

Robin put a hand under his chin, “Well there’s plenty of other ways to boost morale among a populace: festivals, holidays, royal marriages,” 

Marriages. Robin wasn’t foolish, he knew Chrom was a leader, he would likely marry a high ranking Shepard if he were lucky, or at the very least have a political marriage. There was no place for Robin in that sort of arrangement, that sort of future. He knew this. He knew his silly little infatuation had no place in reality.  
Then why did his stomach twist in sickening angles? Why did his chest ache as if he had been hit by an Arcwind blast? He could never seem to sleep at night, not while knowing every day was just another tick in the inevitable countdown of losing Chrom. 

A familiar tickling sensation began to trickle up his throat as he looked at Chrom, “Uh, are any of your cousins interested in anyone? Or, you?”

Chrom started, “Uh, me? No no no, gods no. None of that,” he made an X motion with his arms and blushed, looking to the side.

Robin should have felt relief but for some reason the stone in his gut just dropped further. He cleared his throat before he could cough and nodded. “O-of course, no need to rush anything. Being a leader is hard enough.”

“Yes…” 

Robin took a map of Ylisstol off a shelf and rolled it out on the table, trying to ignore the tense atmosphere he had created with his blunder. “So with that in mind a festival is probably our best bet, yeah?”

Chrom nodded.

“Midsummer is almost upon us, I suggest promoting a festival, not just here in Ylisstol, but also in some of our other major cities. We can even open borders to encourage tourism, however that may leave us open to attack…

“Perhaps a better plan of action is invite some foreign leaders. That will allow us to increase foreign trust and prove to the people that you’re dedicated to the peace. The one thing Ylisse fears the most right now is a tyrant and another war. I think instilling a national celebration for various holidays based off a framer’s calendar will prove fruitful. It appeals to all religious folk, as well as Ylisse’s large population of farmers. It even has the added bonus of being a holiday many foreign leaders will enjoy, summer is usually a bountiful time for all people. What do you think, Chrom?”

No answer, Robin glanced over. Chrom was watching him with a far off look in his eyes. Robin followed the trace of his jawline, the scars on his hands, the dreaminess clouding his eyes… his throat began to ache. He gave a small cough to attempt to settle it and sighed, “Chrom, HEY! Are you even listening?”

Chrom jumped, “Ah of course! A great plan, Robin, your strategies never cease to amaze me,” 

“Truly? Then what were we just talking about?”

“Er… a festival?”

Robin sighed lightly, “A midsummer festival, specifically. I’ll inform Lissa and send invitations to Flavia and Basilio, give me a list of anyone else you’d particularly like or dislike to see there. I’ll speak to Maribelle about arrangements and get back to you once I have a better idea, okay?”

Chrom smiled sheepishly, “Thank you for handling all this stuff, it’s a little hard for me to get my head around. I really do appreciate you being patient with me. I’m trying my best to be a good leader for Ylisse, like Emmeryn before me, but it’s hard,”

Robin felt a familiar ache in his heart, “Chrom…”

He cleared his throat and smiled at Robin fully, “It’s hard, but I know that with you by my side I do all of it, so thank you, Robin, I really do appreciate everything you do here.”

Robin had to take a moment to remember to breathe as he tried to control the blush spreading across his cheeks, “I-I feel the same way, Chrom, I’m… happy to be here. It’s a better life than an amnesiac in a field deserved.”

Chrom laughed, it set off a flurry of tickles in Robin’s throat, “You’re not just any amnesiac, Robin, you’re our amnesiac,” 

Robin opened his mouth to respond, but instead he choked. Cold panic flooded his mind as he slammed a hand against his mouth. 

“E-excuse me,” he choked out as he fled the room, leaving Chrom surprised and arms still reached out to aid.

Robin tried to control his coughing as he fled, but every step seemed to knock another cough out of his lungs. Something tumbled from his lips and crumpled like tissue paper in his hand. When he finally found an alcove far away and secluded enough he sank down against the stonework, coughing so hard his head spun and he could taste blood. 

Ages seemed to pass until Robin was able to breathe again, desperately gasping for breath as he brought his hand away from his mouth, within it where small pink crumpled petals. His head pounded as he rested it against the cool stone. What?

Robin brought a petal to his face, inspecting it’s pink hue as he struggled to realign his thoughts. They were petals, honest to god flower petals. 

Robin tried to think, to focus. His first instinct was to get help immediately, to find someone, do something, to make sense of whatever shit had just came out of his throat. But Robin couldn’t put the burden of his own health on Chrom’s shoulders when he already had the health of a nation to concern himself with. 

Robin sighed, his raw throat protested as air rushed out of his lungs. He recalled how tired Chrom had been lately, how rightly concerned he was with the state of affairs after Emmeryn’s …departure. How concerned he probably already was, thinking of Robin rather than Ylisse. 

Robin swallowed and tasted blood in the back of his throat. This wasn’t anything he had ever heard of before. That scared him, but he wasn’t without help. Robin made up his mind; he would see Lissa as soon as he was able.

+

Robin held his breath as he knocked quietly on Lissa’s bedroom door. Sure he could have gone to the castle infirmary, but he wanted discretion. Not to mention he didn’t want just any healer, he wanted Lissa. Someone he could not only trust, but who was plenty capable of her own right. 

“Coming!” Lissa’s cheerful tenor sounded slightly muffled from behind the door, the handle rattled for a second before the door swung open. 

Lissa smiled at Robin brightly, before she took in his nervous expression and began to frown. “Robin? Is everything okay?”

Robin fiddled with the sleeve of his cloak, “Can I speak with you? In private?” 

Lissa glanced past him, before giving a quick nod and stepping aside. Lissa’s room was quite bright. Her bedspread was a bright blue and the windows of her room were thrown wide open.

Robin leaned against a bedpost, trying to ignore the gaping nervous void growing in his stomach as Lissa crossed her arms in front of him. 

“Soooooo…..” She prompted, watching him expectantly.

“I’m… ill,” Robin began, and upon seeing her expression, “And it’s not exactly a normal illness. I would like to ask for some discretion, I, I don’t want anyone to know about this, not even Chrom.”

She frowned, “Not even Chrom? Robin, you’re kind of scaring me,”

Robin dug into his pocket, pulling out a small handful of pink petals, “I’ve had a cough since before the war ended, and yesterday I coughed these up. I- I have no idea what this is, Lissa, but I don't want to worry Chrom needlessly, you’ve seen how stressed he’s been lately. I can’t add this on top of him learning to rule a country. Please.”

Lissa hesitantly reached forward and took a petal out of his palm. She turned it around in her hand for a few moments before she spoke.

“I’m not sure I can help with this sort of thing, Robin, I have no idea what this could be. There’s a chance it’s magic, and you know far more about that subject than I do,”

Robin sighed softly.

“But,”

He glanced back up.

“But, I will keep this from Chrom until you find a way to cure it. That’s the condition! I’ll help you out in whatever way I can, too, of course.” 

Robin gave a relieved smile, “Thank you Lissa, I knew I could count on you.”

“You HAVE to promise that you’ll look for a cure though, I know you think about others more than yourself, Robin, but you’re important to me. Chrom too! 

Robin re-pocketed the petals and nodded, smiling. “I promise.” 

Seeming satisfied, Lissa collected her staff from a table across the room. “Okay, now let’s see what I can help with!”

+

The castle gardens in midsummer were gorgeous. Robin walked along a gravel path and admired the rows of pinks and purples and yellows and blues. Tall oleander bushes next to climbing roses and morning glory’s, Robin plucks a morning glory flower from it’s vine and continues walking. 

He finds the small alcove he discovered a week prior, and sits on a white stone bench beneath a maple tree. Beardtongues brush at his calves and violets pucker the ground surrounding the gravel, tough little things, some even grew through the gravel, determined to reach the sun. 

The flower petals were burning a hole in Robin’s pocket. Although withered and grey, he felt like if he were to throw them away their memory would lift from his mind, stolen away by the forces which initially took his memory. 

He didn’t recognize many of the flowers here, but he was no botanist and that wasn’t why he was here anyways. Robin pulled out a tome he had lifted from a chest hidden deep in library storage and began to attempt to decipher it. If Robin were lucky, it would be magic, something usable in battle, but if it turned out to be a text or a document he wouldn’t be cross, just a little miffed. 

The breeze is soft, not enough to keep Robin cool, and much to his dismay he finds himself shedding his coat and wiping his brow. Despite the heat, Robin is able to hunch over, focus on his text and write notes.

From what he can tell it is about dark magic, no use to him then, but perhaps Tharja or Henry could find it some use. The tome details a certain style of dark magic, a way to pull it from the ether than might make it more powerful or less draining, but as Robin reads on he finds himself increasingly confused. Either codes or incorrect translations or an insane author, but he couldn’t seem to make heads or tails of-

“Hey Robin.” 

Robin gasps and drops his book, startling so quickly he nearly falls off the bench himself. Chrom only chuckles and sits down next to him.

A familiar voices calls from just around the bend, “Chrom? Where have you gone off to?” 

Cordelia rounds the corner, “Oh,” is all she says, and Robin could swear that she looked disappointed to see him. 

“I found Robin!” Chrom explains, and he slings an arm around Robin’s shoulder and glances at the book he dusted off the ground. Robin stiffens under Chrom’s arm, and then relaxes just as fast. It’s comforting, the weight, the attention, but it almost made Robin feel shameful, Chrom didn’t know that his touch electrified Robin, he didn’t know that Robin craved to see him, touch him, Chrom didn’t know that Robin was in love with him, and it would stay that way. Indefinitely.

Robin realizes that Chrom has asked him a question, and that he and Cordelia are standing by him, waiting for an answer. He flushes. “Sorry?” 

Chrom only grins, “I asked what you’re looking at, but I can see you’re in that head of your’s pretty deep. How about I leave you to your work?” 

Robin wants to protest as Chrom unwinds his arm and stands back up, but instead he smiles and says, “I’ll be in before lunch.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Past cure I am, now reason is past care,   
> And frantic-mad with evermore unrest;  
> My thoughts and my discourse as madmen’s are,  
> At random from the truth vainly expressed:  
>  For I have sworn thee fair, and thought thee bright,  
>  Who art as black as hell, as dark as night.

Chrom crushed his mouth against Robin’s, pushing him against the wall and cupping his cheeks. Robin’s senses were crowded by the heavy scent of flowers and Chrom’s weight and Chrom’s tongue and Chrom, Chrom, Chrom. 

Robin wound an arm around Chrom’s waist and raised another to grab a fistful of his hair as Chrom moaned. 

Robin’s breath hitched, and then he choked. Pressure pushed in on his throat and chest as Chrom kissed down his neck. Panic began to take root as the more Robin fought to take breath the more his lungs seemed to shrink and cave in on themselves.

Chrom pulled back, his eyes were soft and concerned, but as he leaned against Robin he seemed to weigh a thousand pounds. 

“Robin,” He murmured, close enough for the floral scent clinging to him to make Robin’s head spin, “What’s wrong?” 

Robin could only grasp onto Chrom as he struggled to catch his breath and the world began to drift into dizzying arrays of shapes and dimness. 

Robin came to consciousness slowly, details of the room filling in as he grew more and more aware of a burning sensation in his throat. He coughed once, and let out a shuddering breath. Only a slight hitch in pain. Then why?

As he moved to sit up further his hand brushed something on his pillow, soft and delicate, it easily crumpled. Robin froze. 

He reached over to his nightstand and brought his oil lamp to life, it took a moment for the flame catch and Robin blinked as his eyes adjusted to the light. 

Petals. His pillow was covered in them, ones he had perhaps coughed out in his sleep. They were beautiful; fan shaped, slightly crinkled, and a soft pink color, they almost looked like something out of a piece of literature. Robin felt fear set deep into his sternum. In his sleep? Already? He hadn’t remembered what he had dreamed of but- 

He gently felt a hand around his neck. It was getting worse. 

+

The streets of Ylisstol were lively, the end of the Plegian war and the return of Chrom brought new life to the capital. The boosted moral was dearly felt, bustling market places with colorful linens and fresh vegetables, shops and cafes well patronized and energetic, not to mention an increase of trade and economic growth. It made Robin ecstatic to see the changes to the once dreary city, knowing he had helped design it’s revival only heightened his sense of pride. But he was not here for admiration.

Lacie’s Flowers was a cute little shop on the corner just before the market street. Various flowers and herbs were displayed in a terrace outside the shop, it’s emerald green door proudly displayed a sign reading: “OPEN”. As Robin entered a small bell chimed and a younger girl, maybe 15 or 16, glanced up, “Hello sir, what can I do for you?”

Robin smiled, “Ah yes, you see I’m trying to identify a flower, however I only have petals. I was wondering if you could help me,”

“I can try my best, why only petals?”

Robin dug a couple petals out of his pocket and set them on the counter, “I saw them being tossed out in a festival, they’re beautiful, and I hope to find the flower so I might purchase some full ones.” 

The girl brightened up at the notion of a sale and pulled out a small book as inspected the petals, after a couple minutes of consideration she spoke again. “I believe they might be camellias,”

“Oh?”

“Yes, the shape and form matches, however I can’t be sure. Color doesn’t really help for a camellia, there’s quite a few varieties. It could be a peony too, I’m just not entirely sure.” 

“That’s quite alright, speaking of, do you have any camellias or peony’s for sale?”

“We do! What kind of color would you like?”

In the end Robin bought a single peony and camellia. Both were light pink, with petals like tissue paper and lightly floral. Just the sight of them made Robin’s chest ache. He knew it impossible, but Robin could almost feel flowers pressing against his rib cage, petals tickling his throat, pushing and growing and spreading roots into his ribcage. He shivered, trying to shake the crowded sensation in his lungs. 

More research was required. This was likely a magical illness, it would not be far fetched for a flower’s meaning to match his situation. Maybe he should be looking for something about prosperity? Or strategy? Was that even how flower meanings worked? 

He rubbed his cheek tiredly as he stared at the flowers in his hands. Somehow, it felt like he was running out of time.

+

Lissa pressed her ear against Robin’s chest, listening to his breathing. She drew back with a pout, “It’s not good, Robin, you sound wheezy”

He rubbed a hand against his chest, frowning. “But not worse, right? Just not better?” 

Lissa crossed her arms, leaning back against one of the tables in the medical room. “I wouldn’t know, someone is too worried about his own pride to properly disclose important details of his sickness to his caregiver. “

He sighed, “Lissa... “

“I may not be a schooled doctor, but if you’re insisting on hiding this from Chrom, I’m the best you’re going to get. So don’t lie to me! Don’t you trust me?”

Yes. No. I don’t know… I’m scared.

“I… of course I do, It’s just… “

“You’re still afraid I’ll tell Chrom.” She stated it as a fact, eyes narrowed. 

Robin grimaced. It was so easy to forget how perceptive Lissa could be. She may be younger, but she was no less intelligent nor observant. 

“I won’t, you know that. I can keep secrets myself, and it’s not like I don't see how you feel about him now. It’s hurts me to see you like this, Robin.” 

“I… know. I’m sorry. It’s just,” He raised his hand to wrap it loosely around his throat. “It’s just scary.” 

“Since when have you let something beat you just because it was scary?”

“This is a different kind of scary.” 

“That doesn’t mean you’re alone.” 

Robin paused for a moment before looking back up at her, she was facing him, armed crossed and frowning. “Thank you, Lissa. For everything.”

She smiled, “Don’t talk like you’re dead yet! We still have one heck of a fight for you!” 

+

Robin hummed as he piled another stack of books on one of the deep mahogany desks of the castle. The library here was the best in Ylisstol, but due to his findings, thankfully not the only major library in Ylisse. Robin picked another book off the shelf and inspected it’s binding, “An Encyclopedia of Magical Afflictions” , this would do. Robin added it to the growing pile. 

Researching his odd...condition, would not only give him ample insight, it would offer ample opportunities to avoid Chrom, who was beginning to take notice of Robin’s cough. Robin adored Chrom, truly, but he didn’t love Robin, not like that, and every additional moment fills Robin with longing and a deep ache in his chest. They had made it through the war, and perhaps, Robin could make it through the rest of his life as Chrom’s adviser and friend, nothing more. 

He closed his eyes tightly and pulled out another book from the Botany section, “The Ylissian Flower Dictionary” , He exhaled hard and tried to clear his mind of blue eyes and kind smiles and-

He suddenly clamped a hand to his mouth as he coughed hard, Robin could feel petals flutter against his hand as he coughed his throat raw, but when he moved his hand away there was nothing. This is crazy I can’t even tell when I’m coughing up petals or not, I don’t even know-

“Heyo Robin!”

Robin started at the voice and turned swiftly, Henry beamed at him from over the table. He saw, he knows, he’s going to tell someone, he’s going to tell Chrom-

“I couldn’t help but notice you were gathering books on magical illnesses, not planning on cursing anyone are we?” he laughed and Robin relaxed moderately,

“No, no, just sort of a new interest, you know? Now that we’re not at war anymore I need new hobbies,”

“Besides killing people?”

Robin winced, “Er, that's not the most elegant way of putting it, but I suppose…” 

“Well I’m happy for you! It’s always good to expand your horizons, but if you ever change your mind about that curse, I’m your man for the job!” Henry set a book on Robin’s stack, “This is one is Plegian, it might have some magic that’s not known here in Ylisse, so I thought it would help!” 

Robin blinked, “Thank you Henry, I hadn’t thought of that, perhaps I should travel around a bit,”

Henry rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet, “Is that all you’ll be needing or would you like me to find any other books for you?”

“I’ll be alright, thank you, though.”

“Just my job,”

Robin smiled, “I know, but it’s still a kind gesture. Not everything has to be done because you feel obligated.” 

Henry shrugged, “I suppose, but hey, before I go: you might want to get that cough checked out, I’ve seen some pretty nasty diseases, but that one really takes the cake. Or should I say the bouquet?

He chuckled before wandering back off into the library, ignoring Robin’s exclamation. He knew, now, and potentially before. When had he seen? When had Robin slipped up? Which mistake? Which moment? 

Robin glanced back at the book Henry had set on his table. “A Guide to Magical Illnesses: Dark, Light, and Naturally Occurring” 

+

Robin rubbed one eye, the burn of his strained eyes was almost counteracted by the dull ache of pressure, but not quite. He adjusted his candle, and sighed, taking a sip of water. It was long into the night, and Robin was only partially through Henry’s book. He had spent the evening after his initial shock over Henry indeed making sure the petals coming from him were camellia petals. The rest of it was combing through this brick of a book. It was truly interesting, there was a lot Robin hadn’t ever thought of, let alone heard of. Although perhaps under 3 years of memory was underwhelming to go off of. A disease that turned your flesh and organs into blood, slowly turning you into an actual blood sack. There was one that caused fly larvae to grow in your organs until they ate you alive, or you died from shock. Another was caused by a particular mushroom, it could cause your flesh to rapidly necross and grow fungi on it as it decayed. Plenty of horrific-to-think-about diseases, and many that-sounds-like-something-Henry-would-say, type illnesses. He hadn’t managed to find much on his condition however. Some disease, such as the mushroom one, mentioned plants growing on or in the body, however little mentioned flowers, or petals, specifically. 

He placed his forehead on the table, closing his eyes for a second as they burned with relief. It was late, he should get to bed but… 

Robin knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep well unless he found something out. He may even have coughing fits in his sleep again. It had been two weeks since the incident but when he thought of it it still made his blood go cold. To think he could have just choked in his sleep and died right then and there. To think that one day he just wouldn’t wake up. To think that one day he would just leave all of his friends, without warning, without reason, and leave a body none of them could even begin to puzzle out. To think that one day he would just leave Chrom, leave him without a tactician, without a friend, without his other half-

Robin suddenly choked, he could feel something brushing up against the back of throat, he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t breathe. Suddenly a faintly sweet taste flooded his mouth as flower petals poured from his lips. 

Robin caught his breath, sucking in precious oxygen and relishing the feeling of being able to fill his lungs again. When he glanced down he blanched. In the dim candle light he could make out a hand full of petals, soft and pink and crumpled like tissue paper. So many…

Robin swallowed hard. He was not going to die from this. He picked up Henry’s book again and began to flip through the pages with more vigor. There must be something in here, if Henry knew what his disease was, than perhaps the book was a clue, maybe something was in here.   
“Symptoms: rash, fever, hives…” 

“Symptoms: headache, nausea, odd growths..”

“Symptoms: serious burns, necrosis of the skin, inability to speak…” 

“Symptoms: Severe coughing, inability to keep down food or drink, coughing up flower petals…” 

Robin suddenly stopped, leaning closer to read,

“Hanahaki Disease: This family of disease affects individuals who are magically oriented or who spend a significant amount of time around magic, it can make their emotions manifest as real symptoms. Hanahaki is a substrain of this disease in which unrequited love manifests as a flower in one’s lungs or lower throat. Severe coughing, lack of appetite, headaches, and dizziness can all occur as the flower grows up and out of the subject’s throat and mouth. The flower feeds on the feelings of love, and often times the type of flower has a relevant meaning or place in the subject’s life or culture. The subject will likely perish from suffocation or starvation, alternatively they may die from poisoning early on if their flower is of a poisonous variety. This disease is considerably rare, and there is no known cure or treatment. “

Robin leaned back, horror settling heavy in his gut. He opened The Ylissian Flower Dictionary, and rapidly flipped through it’s pages. A, then B, and then, C, for camellia. 

“Pink Camellias often symbolize longing, especially for something believed to be impossible to have.”

Robin stared at the page for a minute, and then two, and then three. And then he laughed. Hard forceful and aching laughs. Tears streamed down his face, and he alternated before laughing and coughing more than once. All that time spent on longing and heartbreak and being so fucking sure he would do anything, be anything, kill anything, was spent in foolishness. Robin had been fully ready to die for Chrom, but he never considered Chrom might be the one to kill him. Secretly, stealthily, and in the only way Chrom ever could hurt Robin. With love. 

It was all so fucking tragic. Like a script being played out, or a warning to children; ‘Be careful who you love, lest you choke on it!’. 

Robin closed the book. He entertained the idea of forgetting about Chrom for nearly a whole second before he thought about having to go it alone, before he thought about leaving Ylisse, the only home he had ever known, before he thought about all his friends, and before the look on Chrom’s face before Robin told him he had to leave. Alternatively, the look of betrayal if Robin had just absconded in the night. He wouldn’t, couldn’t do that. Not to Chrom, never to Chrom. There were times where Robin thought perhaps soulmates really did exist, times where Robin thought perhaps the Gods hadn’t forsaken the world after all, because if Chrom could exist then-

Robin choked as he braced a hand against the desk. Was dying worth all of this? No ,no that wasn’t the right question. Was Chrom worth all of this? 

Of course. 

+

Robin had decided to take the book Henry had “gifted” him. He would give it back after he had read it through, and decided he had gained all out of it he could. Besides the bookmarked page in the middle of the book, it was a fascinating text, perhaps one he should copy and add to the castle’s library. Surely someone somewhere would be needing the information, maybe even someone with the same misfortune as he. 

Robin’s thoughts were cut cleanly by a knock at the door. He carefully place a second bookmark into the book and laid it on his desk before standing to get the door. Lissa smiled at him as he opened it, and he let her in without question. She was generous enough to not only give him regular check ups, but also keep his secret. It was only right to tell her.

“Lissa, “ He began, his voice had a light rasp and he could tell she had locked onto it by the sudden stiffness of her shoulders and the way her head turned. “I’ve made headway in my research.”

She gasped, “Really?! Robin that’s wonderful news!” 

“It’s not that simple.” 

Robin had already anticipated the loss of energy and the expression of worry and the stubborn determination Lissa would maintain anyways, but it didn’t stop him from feeling guilt rise over him in waves.

He cleared his throat softly, “I found it in one of Henry’s books, he had already knew, somehow.”

“The cough is really obvious,” Lissa added unhelpfully.

Robin huffed a laugh despite of himself, “He gave me a book on magical illnesses, it’s supposedly called ‘Hanahaki Disease’. It… it consists of…”

Robin swallowed and tired to regain his nerve. There was no need to lie to Lissa, she already knew, she was trustworthy, and now that he got this far, she would never stop until she found out. 

“It consists of a flower that grows in your lungs and throat, magic can help it manifest, but it’s caused by unrequited love. That’s all I know.”

Lissa frowned and took a step forward, “Not even a cure?”

Robin glanced at the wood beneath their feet. “No, not that I could find.”

“And you say it’s caused by unrequited love? Then Robin! You have to tell him!” 

Robin felt a catch in his throat and wheezed, “I’m sorry, who?”

Lissa rolled her eyes, “Chrom, dummy! I know you’ve had a thing for him for just about ever.”

This is what he had been afraid of. “No, I absolutely can not.”

“You didn’t even deny it! But why can’t you tell him Robin? Maybe that will cure it!”

Robin sighed and sat on his bed, “Because if something happens to me he will blame himself, Lissa. You know your brother. He would fight tooth and nail for me, spend ages trying to find a cure or a fix, I can’t do that to him, especially since I’m not even sure if there is one. He needs to focus on Ylisse right now. That should be all of our primary objectives right now, helping Ylisse recover from the war. I’m not so selfish as to make more drama out of this than necessary.”

Lissa was silent for a moment as she worried her hands, “Robin, you said it yourself, Chrom cares about you a great deal, and your cough isn’t very subtle either. He’s been worried about you for a couple weeks now, I really think at this point you’re only distracting him more by trying to keep secrets. I know you’re scared and nervous and all, but you have to take that chance!” 

Robin swallowed, “Lissa, I know Chrom cares for me, but he doesn’t love me, not like I love him. I don’t plan to tell him, I don’t know what I’ll do, but I can’t tell him.” 

She clenched her fists, “So what? You’ll just give up and wait until you die? That’s not going to make Chrom feel better either! You can’t just give up! You could be dying right now, Robin, and I…” 

Lissa sniffled and Robin immediately felt horrible, “Lissa, that’s not what I-” 

“I don’t want you to die!” She cried, bringing her hands up to cover her eyes. 

“Lissa,” Robin stood only took a single step forward before she launched herself at him, burying her head in his chest. Robin gently stroked her hair, “I’m not going anywhere, Lissa.”

She sniffed, “P-promise?”

“Of course.” 

+

Robin rolled a a camellia between his fingers contemplatively. This one was a white variety, and fully bloomed, unlike the simple petals coming from him. Officially, it was an elegans camellia, light pink with soft and velvety petals. They were arranged haphazardly, almost giving the appearance of tissue paper. It was a beautiful flower, one he had bought himself in town. 

Robin also knew it was unlikely to be the type he had in his chest. He placed a hand to his sternum and pressed, it was almost as if he feel the flower brushing up against his lungs. There was a tickle in the back of his throat and for a moment Robin was afraid he’d have another fit, but then the door creaked open, equal parts merciful and terrifying. 

Lissa peeked her head inside, and frowned as she stepped in the room. “That's kind of morbid you know,” 

Robin smiled, “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, yeah?” 

She sighed and shook her head, pulling out a small bottle she handed it to him. “Milk and honey, it’s all I’ve got right now until you learn more about a possible cure. My staff can’t heal your flower, so until then you’ll have to manage taking care of yourself.” 

Robin smiled, “Thank you, Lissa. It means a lot to me that you’re keeping just between us.” 

Lissa huffed a sigh, “But you will tell Chrom soon, right?” 

“Ah, of course,”

“Robin! I mean it!” She rubbed her arm, looking frustrated, “This, this is serious. I've never even heard of anything like it. It doesn’t bring me any joy to see you like this.”

Robin looked down, suddenly feeling ashamed, “I know, Lissa, but what good is it to do to let Chrom worry? There’s nothing he can do about this, you know that will frustrate him, not to mention distract him. Ylisse needs him ,especially after what happened to Emmeryn. Ylisse needs both of you. You can’t afford to be distracted by someone like me.”

Lissa huffed, “Chrom cares about you. You’re not just ‘someone’ to him, to me, or to any of the shepherds. We care about you Robin, don’t forget that! Even if you don’t tell Chrom that you’re totally in love with him, at least let him know what’s up. He’s worried!

”That’s what I’m trying to avoid.” Robin reasoned, uncorking the milk and honey Lissa had given him. He lit a small flame on the tip of his finger in an attempt to warm the milk. 

“Is being a distraction what you’re really worried about?” Lissa said, “Or are you concerned about what the others will think?”

“Lissa-”

“Oh! Is someone threatening you? You’d tell me, right Robin? If something else was upsetting you? I’m a princess! I’ll get anyone off your back!” Lissa smiled at him. Not her usual carefree, but something warm and friendly regardless. 

Robin stared at her for a minute, his chest ached but he couldn’t tell if it was the flowers or his heart. “I… Thank you, Lissa.” 

“Besides!” She replied cheerfully, “You need to be healthy for the festival ,or you’ll be too sick to go! All that planning and nothing of it!”

Robin groaned, “You’re making me sound like an old man.”

“Well maybe you are! Just look at this white hair!”

And Robin laughs.

+

“Milord!”

Robin frowned at the panting guard from across the table of the council room. He had burst into the meeting unannounced, that was the first clue something was wrong. 

Chrom rose from his seat, drawing the eyes of the other advisers seated at the table, “Speak soldier, what’s wrong?”

“Risen have been spotted a half mile from Ylisstol,”

“What!?” Chrom glanced at Robin, eyes racing with question.

Robin stood with a start, “That shouldn’t be possible, Gangrel is dead.”

Beside him, Cordelia rose to her feet as well, “Chrom, should I gather the Shepherds?” 

“Yes, right away.” Chrom hurried out of the room in a near run, Cordelia and Robin close behind.

Robin skidded to a halt outside his door and fiddled with the handle, going too fast to properly open it. Once inside he quickly grabbed a tome off his desk before throwing on his cloak and hurrying out to where the rest of the Shepherds were likely gathering. Risen were not good, the war with Plegia should have ended them once and for all, but if it hadn’t then… perhaps there was more to the Risen than Robin had previously believed… 

+

The undead swordsman lurched forward, despite oddly tinted skin and glowing eyes it seemed almost sentient. Only it’s jerky puppet-like movements distinguished it from the truly living. Robin hated the Risen. Above all else they were unsightly, but below that(digging into his rib cage) they were proof of the war that he had fought. That Chrom had fought. Are still fighting now, since the undead before them were quite real, steel for steel and flesh for flesh. Part of Robin was excited for battle. It brought an adrenaline unlike any other, and was nostalgic of the first months of his life after waking up. A greater part of Robin detested it though. War only brought strife and hatred, death and destruction. He had gone through half a dozen heart attacks, many with Chrom, moments in battle where someone was just too slow, just a few inches in the wrong direction, or even a moment where Robin had taken his eyes off them, only to glance back to find a corpse. 

In short, Robin detested the Risen in two parts fear and hatred which he often did not have the energy to display. So instead he stands solemn and ready, an Arclightning tome raised. Chrom glances at him, “Ready?”

Robin took a breathe to quell his growing the ache in his sternum and nodded. 

Chrom skewers the Risen swordsman just how Robin foresaw he would. Chrom rarely missed, it was one of the best parts of watching him fight. Perfect battle instinct and nearly perfect swordsmanship, Robin couldn’t help but admire it. 

Robin flicked his wrist and a shock of lighting sprung from his palm and buried itself into the chest of a Risen soldier who was coming from behind. Beside him Chrom huffed a quick, “Thanks”, before impaling another undead on his Falchion. Robin loved to watch Chrom fight. A flick of steel, a glint of sunlight, heavy breaths and the satisfying finality of Chrom coming out on top, as if he could ever lose, as if Robin would ever put him in the position to lose in the first place. Fighting with Chrom was easy, natural. As if he had done it before in countless lives past. In a way, he somehow felt he had-

Robin suddenly choked, oh god, not here, not now, he tried to clear his throat with a cough, but he only managed to wheeze as whatever was blocking his throat shifted slightly. As if he didn't already know what it was. 

Hands reached up to grab at his throat, Robin didn't realize they were his own until the details of the battlefield began to run together in dizzying arrays of color. Robin sank to his knees, and around him he heard the slashing of swords and the slicing of flesh and panicked shouting, but all he was able to do was stare at the ground and the petals falling from his mouth. His chest burned with fire, and his throat strained. This is the end, I could choke to death here. And even if I survive everyone saw! I’ve been found! They’re going to….. They’re going to- Panic began to seep into the cracks in Robin’s mind. He was going to die. He was going to die. He was going to-

All too suddenly a cough forced it’s out of his throat, it was an awful croaking sound, but it was relief. The petals suddenly began to come up easier as he coughed harder and harder. Dimly he noted that they were a darker shade of pink than before. Only when he was able to breathe did Robin notice that there were not just petals lying before him, but rather closed blossoms. Their delicate pink and green hues were disturbed by dark red swashes of blood. 

Cold fear set like a stone as he gasped for breath, not only had he coughed up fucking flower petals before Chrom, he had done it in front of everyone, in the heat of battle! It was a miracle he wasn't dead yet-

“Robin, are you alright?!” 

Robin glanced up, the battlefield was still hazy, an over saturated mess, but his eyes focused clearly on Chrom as a risen soldier slid off the Falchion. He stood with his back to the sun as light exploded into a halo around him, his features were dimmed in the foreground of the light. Chrom’s face softened as he set eyes on Robin, and then he glanced down. Robin had the urge to cover the flowers behind his hands, as if that could hide the blood smeared on the grass and around Robin’s mouth, as if that could hide his trembling body, as if that could hide whatever lovesick look Robin surely had on his face as Chrom took his eyes off the battlefield to instead watch Robin. A stupid man. 

“Stahl, watch my 6!” Chrom shouts, before hurrying towards Robin.

Robin pulls himself together on unsteady feet, his throat and his chest ached and he felt like his head was about to split open, but he's alive. He’s alive. 

“Robin, what happened? Are you alright?” Chrom’s tone is frantic, his eyes are panicked, he rests his hands on Robin’s upper arms, offering support; Robin stands on his own. 

“I’m fine, just a passing fit,” He says after a second of focusing on the tingling of his skin under Chrom’s hands, “It won’t happen again,” 

“Then what are those?” Robin follows Chrom’s glance down to their feet, where the blossoms lie, tightly closed and scattered beneath their boots. He really had been caught. Out in the open, like a goddamn nightmare. Perhaps his worry at Lissa and Henry’s knowledge had been overreacting. 

He swallowed, “Unimportant, we’re in a battle.” 

Chrom bristled, “Unimportant? Robin you just has a fit on the ground! What if,” Chrom suddenly lost momentum, his eyes widening, “what if..”

Robin shook him, “Chrom, it can wait until after the battle,” 

“After the battle,” For a moment Chrom looked unconvinced, Robin could read the doubt and hesitation on his face with ease, he was scared. Scared was simple, Robin could deal with that. 

“I promise,” 

Chrom glanced at him, before raising a hand to wipe a smear of blood away from Robin’s mouth. Robin froze, feeling a tickle rise in his throat again. He swallowed hard as Chrom stepped backwards, “Are you still able to fight?”

Robin nodded. “Of course,” 

Mentally Robin berated himself. He blew it entirely, Chrom not finding out was the whole point. If he lied and said he didn't know the nature of the illness Chrom would expend precious time and resources looking for a cause and a cure, if he told the truth then Chrom would demand to know the nature of the disease. Robin could not afford that. He would need a plan, or a plausible lie, or, or, or. 

He felt a migraine coming on. Perhaps the best course of action would be to hide it’s true nature from Chrom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading and I hope you guys have a nice night!


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lascivious grace, in whom all ill well shows,  
>  Kill me with spites yet we must not be foes.

“Hana...haki?” 

Robin shifted uncomfortably, the chairs they sat in were plush, a deep red, chairs for Ylisse’s royal hall. They felt just as stiff and uncomfortable as everything in the room. A tickle crawled it’s way up Robin’s throat. He resisted the urge to cough and instead cleared his throat.

“Yes, it’s called Hanahaki disease, it’s quite rare and unique, but it’s not contagious, so you have nothing to be concerned about.” 

Chrom frowned, “It’s not my own health that concerns me, tell me, why flower petals?” 

Robin grimaced, “Ah, well, the disease consists of coughing up flower petals, it's the root cause of all other symptoms, it’s mostly manageable,” he put his hands up in a placating gesture, “and I am treating it. It just, sometimes gets the better of me.” 

“What do the treatments consist of?”

“Honey to soothe the throat, mostly, and then meditation and a rare herb. The disease is magical in nature, so your state of mind is important to the advancement of the illness.” Robin silently cursed. Herbs? What an obvious lie!

“I see,” Chrom inspected the wooden grain of the table for a moment before asking the question Robin desperately did not want to hear. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I…” Robin can feel Chrom’s eyes on him, and felt a rush of shame as he averted his eyes; “I didn’t want to worry you over something so trivial.” 

Robin glanced back at Chrom as he sighed softly, he reached across the table and clasped one of Robin’s hands.

“Robin, your health isn’t trivial, and neither are your worries and cares. I-” he stops for a moment, looking at Robin, desperately searching for something, before glancing back down at their hands, “When I saw you fall, it was terrifying. For a second I was afraid I had lost you. I don’t ever want to feel that way again. I don’t ever want to lose anyone again.” 

Robin swallowed a lump in his throat while watching Chrom’s downcast eyes close. He moved his free hand to cover their conjoined hands. Robin felt like his heart was bleeding, he wanted to hug and kiss Chrom and reassure him, but instead Robin just watched him blink rapidly before looking back up and meeting Robin’s eyes with desperation, “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you, you’re my other half, Robin, I couldn’t imagine my life without you.” 

“You won’t have to, I can beat this.” Robin said suddenly. He leaned forward, desperate to make Chrom stop making that expression and tone of voice, and desperate to be there with him after such an admission. Other half? Me? 

“We can do this,” Chrom amended, “There’s no reason to be alone anymore.”

Robin smiled softly, gently running his fingers over Chrom’s knuckles, a heavy fondness gathering in his chest. “Of course.”

+

Robin nods at the councilman and writes a few sentences in his notebook. He was in a meeting to decide the proper location for the festival. Noblemen and women here to discuss why their manor was the best place, why the street their daughter owned every shop on would do well, why their plantation would offer the best crops for cooking the feasts. 

It was frankly exhausting. Chrom seemed to think so too. He sighed for the upteeth time that presentation, and doodled circles in the margins of an otherwise empty notepage. Robin smiled softly, a warmth gather in his heart, and poked Chrom with his quill.

Chrom jumped, as if afraid to have been caught, and glanced over, relaxing as he saw it was only Robin. 

Bored? Robin mouths, smiling conspiratorially, and Chrom raises an eyebrow and looks confused. 

Robin rolled his eyes and tried again, and this time Chrom nodded, his own smile drifting across his lips in a lazy draw. ‘Sparring?’ He mouths ‘After…’ 

He waves his quill at the whole display, and Robin sees that another man across the way has noticed them. They both jump when Maribelle clears her throat, displeasure evident. Robin smiled apologetically at the man talking about his two-hundred acres and sixty cows or what have you, and wrote another note down about something he thought he might have heard while looking at Chrom.

It’s only a couple minutes later when Chrom pokes him. Robin glances over, and Chrom leans over this time, whispering in his ear, “If we pretend we’re having council then they won’t believe us rude, now would you like to spar after this meeting is over? I feel like my legs are cramping up!” 

Robin glances about the room conspiratorially, and raises an eyebrow when he makes eye contact with Maribelle, before turning to whisper in Chrom’s ear, “They’ll think they’re in trouble, firstly, and secondly no, last time I had bruises for weeks!” 

Chrom chuckles warmly, and leans in close to whisper; “I’ll be more careful this time.” 

Robin feels a smile light up his lips despite trying to stay serious for the ruse, and he rolls his eyes. “Sure you will, and you said that the last time too, yeah?” 

Chrom chuckles again, good natured and deep, and Robin suddenly feels a pressure pushing in on his chest. Not here, again in public?

Robin manages to scoot his chair back and brace himself against Chrom’s arm as he began to cough. This time didn’t hurt nearly as much as the last, and as he choked and wheezed he could hear the entire room go silent. Chrom was still for but a moment before he kneeled at Robin’s side and rubbed his back for lack of anything better to do. 

It was odd to be with someone when he had a fit, and Robin could feel his cheeks burning the same as his lungs as he raised his head, brushing a couple petals off his lap. “I need,” Robin began, panting as he attempted to regulate his breathing again, “- to go,”

Chrom immediately stood up, pulling Robin with him. Robin wavered for a moment but found his balance as Chrom wrapped an arm around his shoulders and began to lead him out of the room. 

“Maribelle,” He said firmly, “You’re in charge now.”

Maribelle’s eyes flickered to Robin for a only a minute before she schooled her expression and nodded, “Of course, Prince Chrom.” 

Robin half walked and was half pulled out of the room by Chrom, the meeting continuing behind them.

“You heard them!” Said Maribelle, “Continue.”

“But- the Prince-” The Nobleman began, and Maribelle, bless her, responded scathingly.

“And that’s royal business, now unless you're planning to interrogate his royal highness you best get on before you run out of time.” 

The conversation drifted away as they walked further down the hall. “Chrom,” Robin began, ‘I’m alright, you can go back-”

Chrom suddenly turned to Robin, gripping his shoulders, “Robin, is that normal? The coughing? You told me it only happened occasionally but that was unprompted!”

“And,” Robin said, pulling his hands away, “It was the first time since the battle.” 

Chrom frowned, “Robin,” he said gently, “You and I both know that’s not true. I’ve seen the petals, I’ve heard the hoarseness of your voice. I don’t mean to be overbearing but I’m worried.” 

Robin sighed, letting Chrom know at all was a mistake, “I know, and I’m sorry for worrying you.” 

Chrom is quiet for a moment, before “Robin I don’t you should be alone.” 

Robin frowned, “What?”

“I mean! What if something happens and you can’t breathe, or you’re in a dangerous situation.” Chrom amends.

“I can take care of myself! I’ll have you know I can can still sling any spell as if the war were yesterday!”

“Not when you can’t speak the words.” 

Robin opens his mouth to reply, but he finds something flutter in his throat and coughs roughly to the side. They both watch the petal flutter to the floor. 

“That doesn’t mean anything.” Robin said at the same time as Chrom said, “That settles it.” 

“I’m not going to be babysat,” Robin argued, swooping down to pick up the petal. 

“I’ll just change my schedule,” Chrom says, “I don’t care much for stuffy meeting anyways.”

Chrom grabs his arm again, and Robin finds himself fighting between wanting Chrom to stop touching him and wanting Chrom to never stop. The truth was it was getting worse. Now that Chrom knew, has had for a week, Robin found himself coughing more more, and it felt as if his body ached all over all the time.

“What if I see you tomorrow?” Chrom said, “It will give you time to think. I’m just worried.”

“I know,” Robin sighed. 

+

“No, “ said Robin as he fiddled with his door key, “absolutely not.”

Chrom followed him into the room as he pushed open the door, “Come on, Robin, I’m worried about you.”

Robin huffed a sigh and turned to face him as he shrugged off his coat, “ And I told you, I’m fine.”

“You weren’t fine in that conference room yesterday.” Chrom suddenly grabbed his wrist.

Robin pulled away and crossed his arms, “You are not having a sleepover with me.”

“Let me stay, please.” 

Robin followed his gaze to Chrom’s face. He looked upset despite Robin being the one who was dying. Chrom’s eyes were wide and hopeful, he was leaning ever so slightly forward, and his mouth was slightly parted. Robin felt a rush of heat and opened his mouth to respond before another rush of floral crowded his senses.

He felt Chrom place hands on either side of his shoulders and gently guide him to the bed as he coughed hard. The petals came out easy, leaving Robin’s stomach queasy as his head began to ache. 

He stared at the petals in his lap, breathing hard to not only catch his breath, but try to put his thoughts into some semblance of order. The bed dipped as Chrom sat next to him, he wrapped an arm around Robin’s shoulders and pulled him to his chest. Cheating.

“Please.”

Robin tooked another moment to breathe. This was a mistake. This would make it worse. 

“...Okay,” he acquiesced. 

Robin closed his eyes and let out a shuddering sigh, a couple petals fluttered past his lips as he did so and he immediately felt the familiar tickle rise in his throat again, the onslaught of panic and pain and-

Chrom gently squeezed Robin tighter, a reminder that he was there. It, of course, only made him worse. This is killing you. And he knew it was, but there was no way he could let Chrom go now, no way he could push him away, tell him to leave, not again, not anymore. 

Robin’s chest seared like fire as he began to cough, petals flooded his mouth and he nearly gagged from their sweet taste. Chrom took his arms away, as if to allow him to back off or breathe easier, but Robin couldn’t let him go now. He dug his nails into the fabric of Chrom’s tunic and shook, body racking with shivers and violent coughs. 

“Oh Robin…” 

Robin didn’t respond to Chrom as he gently took hold of Robin’s shoulder and pushed him forward. For a moment Robin was afraid that Chrom was pushing him away, his lungs were aching and his vision was spinning and he was being pushed away, but then Chrom leaned Robin’s head against his shoulder so Robin was able to cough petals into both their laps. 

The change in posture was slight, but it brought relief. Robin didn't feel as much pressure pushing in on his chest, only coughed for a couple more seconds before the last hack wracked his body, and he just left only shaking. Robin tried to regain presence as his head spun and his heart fluttered in his chest, running a race with a finish line soon in sight. He took grateful breaths of air, they burned his throat and his mouth tasted like blood and a faint sweetness, but it was air. 

“Robin I, I did not realize how,” Chrom began, he sounded shocked, scared even. Good. Robin was scared too. He swallowed as Robin looked up to face him, whatever Chrom saw he didn't like. His eyes widened and he cupped a side of Robin’s jaw. He looked vulnerable then, like he could cry any moment. 

He’s going to kill me, Robin thought, even as he leaned into Chrom’s touch, even as he sat with Chrom through the night, even as he stayed despite everything. There really couldn’t have been a more fitting end. 

Chrom brushed a finger along his lips, and Robin wondered how much drool and blood he was covered in, how much they were both covered now that Robin had hacked up a Camellia bush on the bed. Chrom’s brow was furrowed in thought and his eyes were studying Robin with a soft care, he looked so worried…

“Is it, is it always like this? Has it been getting worse?” Chrom asked, 

Robin tried to blink away his stupor and growing migraine in two parts, before rasping “No, no,” stop lying, “No it, it’s normally not this bad at all. I’m just….”

Chrom frowned as Robin trailed off. Chrom’s intense look combined with the pain in this chest and behind his eyes blended into a medley of longing and pain. Robin closed his eyes as his throat began to burn again. 

I’m just scared.

 

 

Robin furrows his brow as Maribelle piles another bolt of fabric in his arms. 

They’re getting quite heavy now, and threatening to obscure his vision. “Maribelle,” he gets out from around copious amounts of fabric, “Isn’t this enough?”

“For royalty? Never. The finest fabrics are to be used.”

Maribelle grinned as she took a pile of fabric from him and set it on a table. “Now between you and me, I’m not sure that the finest silks are always important but appearances matter.”

Robin sighed and glanced about the tailor’s room, fabrics of all colors and calibers lined the walls like stained glass. 

Lissa adds another bolt to the table, and stands back, lifting her fingers like a photo frame, “Ooh I love the teal! What do you guys think?”

Maribelle put her hand to her chin and contemplated the color, Robin shrugged, “It’s a little tacky, isn’t it?”

“But it’s a jewel tone! Surely that just screams fancy,” Lissa protested, lifting the fabric in the air.

“Well if we pair it with this orange maybe it will look nice,” Robin suggested.

“For tents or table cloths?” Maribelle asked.

Robin gathered both bolts in his arms and carried them to another table. “Tents, both of them, the colors are too tacky to be all the same.” 

“You really think?” Lissa peered at the others skeptically.

Robin groaned and collapsed in a chair, “Do the colors really matter? We’ve been here since noon and the sun’s been gone for hours! I’m exhausted.”

“And,” said Maribelle, “We’ve done nothing but contemplate color palettes, are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

Robin sighed and closed his eyes. The truth was he was exhausted. A day of sitting and standing and he felt faint on his feet. He felt out of breath as he tried to breathe without irritating his throat, and he started when a small hand landed on his forehead.

“You’re not feverish,” Lissa said, frowning at him, “So then it’s still the…” 

She trails off meaningfully, and Robin nodded, “You can say it, she’s seen anyways…” 

Robin sees Maribelle shift and narrow her eyes in the corner of his vision, but he elects not to think on it. She had seen his coughing fit before, and either way did it matter much? 

“Robin’s been awfully sick lately,” Lissa says to her, “A terrible cough, and he hasn't been eating lately-” 

“I have!” Robin protested, and Lissa shot him a dirty look.

“Well not much,” She conceded before leaning back to Maribelle to gossip. “It has Chrom really worried.” 

“Well of course,” Maribelle murmured, “That’s why you were ill at the meeting a couple week ago.” 

“Gods, please don’t remind me. That was incredibly embarrassing. I’m sure the lords and ladies sponsoring the festival think I’m a tool now.”

“More likely, “ Maribelle said, taking a seat opposite to Robin, “They think you a charming tragic figure. Ladies love the frail clever mage types, and the gentlemen will respect your intelligence. If anything you’ll add sympathetic charm to the court.” 

Lissa leaned against her chair and hummed in mock thought, “I don’t know, don’t you think his weak noodle arms will annoy any admirers?” 

“Hey!”

Lissa laughed and Maribelle watched her and smiled, before turning back to Robin. “In all seriousness Robin, you really ought to rest. You’re no use to anyone half dead, and I for one would be dreadfully distraught if your condition were to worsen. Are you sure you don’t want me to take my staff and look at it?”

Robin tilted his head and stared at the ceiling. It was… odd, having so many people worry after him. He had spent the first couple years of his life worrying about lives and money and troops and war, and now it seems as soon as he finds time to relax everyone finally found it their time to be worried over him. It was touching… if not anxiety-inducing to have so many people know your weakness. It was quite obvious he had failed at his initial task to keep his friends from worrying, but he could always ease their minds. 

“No, no, I really appreciate it, Maribelle, but Lissa is helping me, and I would prefer to keep it on the low. I don’t want to cause a ruckus.” 

“Robin, darling, your health will always be worth a ruckus, but if that’s what you want I will oblige.” 

The room is silent for a moment more, filled with the warm, static-y charge of fondness and anxiety tucking into corners and filling the space underneath tables and chairs. Robin lets the quiet persist long enough for him to rub is hands together and contemplate a moment of pink petals and blue eyes and the confrontation last night, before standing up.

“Okay so does the teal work?” 

“Oh! But just look at this red!” 

+

Robin carefully controlled his breathing as he feigned sleep. He could feel Chrom’s stare upon him, inspecting the shallowness of his eyes and the parlor of his skin. Looking for signs of suffering and death. Looking for signs that Robin might be getting better, he wasn’t of course, not like this… but he couldn’t bear to push Chrom away, especially with the uncertainty of if he would even be breathing come tomorrow. When Robin had stopped protesting Chrom coming to his room every evening he wasn’t quite sure, but a man only had so much self restraint. If Chrom wanted to lie beside him and ensure he didn’t asphyxiate in his sleep, then by all means, Robinwas more than happy to invite him in. 

Robin failed to hide a shiver when a hand cupped his jaw, and instead elected to open his eyes. Chrom was indeed staring at him, eyes soft and sad. It made Robin’s heart twist and squeeze and tangle in with every stray fear and thought and feeling. Chrom slid his hand up to tuck a lock of hair behind Robin’s ear and he had restrain himself from just leaning forward and kissing Chrom right then and there. How had this become normal for them? 

Chrom leaned close, “I knew you weren’t sleeping, you know. Why pretend?” 

Robin had another dilemma in trying to control his ragged breathing as he murmured barely loud enough to hear, “You still let me pretend-sleep though, a mark of a true gentleman.” 

“You need it,” he said, an air of tire in his voice. Chrom closed his eyes and Robin took note of the circles under his eyes. 

“You do too, the midsummer festival starts in under three days. You’ll have to be there.”

Chrom sighed heavily, flopping back down on the bed, “It's been a lot more work than I initially anticipated.”

Robin chuckled lowly, turning on his side to watch Chrom, “Chickening out already? Come on, a war couldn’t beat you but a festival does?” 

Chrom made an offended gasp, “What? No! It’s just different. I’m still getting used to the domestic side of things.”

Robin closed his eyes, feeling the pull of sleep for real now. “You know a year ago I don’t think I could have ever imagined Prince Chrom of Ylisse being able to handle any domestic affairs, it’s so inspiring to see how much you’ve grown.” I don’t think I ever could have imagined you in my bed either. 

“Well I had also just met you, none of this would have happened without you, Robin.”

“I know, I do all the hard work around here.”

Chrom laughed softly, “Maybe so, maybe so, but it’s not unappreciated work in the slightest.”

Robin almost opened his eyes for that one, his chest feels heavy, but warm too, and the burning in his throat doesn’t stop him from smiling and humming softly in reply.

Chrom is quiet for a moment, before the mattress shifts and Robin feels a warm hand rest on his shoulder. “Robin?”

“Mhm?” he murmurs, eye’s still closed and sleep setting in.

“I’m so glad I met you, you know that right? I wouldn’t change that for the world.”

Roin cracked open his eyes and focused on Chrom’s face in the moonlight, his eyes were soft and alight with glow from the moon, his hand left a burning trail where it drifted up Robin’s shoulder and cupped his cheek. He was so beautiful in the fragile night light and Robin was struggling to stay conscious, the cool air, the soft sheets, and Chrom’s warm voice beside him lulled him to sleep with ease. 

+

Robin opened his eyes with more of a struggle than he’d like. The thin light filtering through the window pane gave the room a colder feel. He burrowed deeper into his blankets, pushing closer the warmth enveloping his side and-

Robin’s eyes snapped open as cold realization dropped like a stone in his gut. Chrom had buried his face in Robin’s shoulder, breath hot on his collarbone, with one arm curled around Robin’s waist. 

The world came into hyperfocus as he struggled to control his breathing, he could feel every inch of contact with startling intensity, Chrom was nearly unbearably warm against his side. It would be so easy to enjoy this; to go back to sleep, to run his fingers through Chrom’s hair, to admire the angles of Chrom’s body without worrying about being caught or-

Chrom murmured something intelligible into Robin’s skin and nuzzled closer, tightening his grip around Robin’s waist. A sudden tickle pricked the back of his throat and Robin struggled for a moment to control his cough, it would surely wake Chrom up, and that was not the start that Robin wanted to his day. 

Robin carefully unwound Chrom’s arm from around his waist, he muttered some protest, but otherwise didn’t wake. Robin took a moment to focus his breathing, trying to stay ahead of the growing pressure mounting in his chest. 

After moments pause he began to try to move himself out from under Chrom as slowly as possible, Chrom murmured something soft and intelligible against his skin and Robin felt his throat constrict as he coughed hard. He instantly covered his mouth as he tried to sit up straighter and relieve some of the pressure on his chest. 

“Robin... ?” Chrom’s voice was tired and still laced with sleep as he began to shift.

Robin froze, panic racing through his veins. He tried to suppress his coughing, but only made an ugly sound as petals fell from his mouth as he tried to find a break in his reflex for air. 

“Robin!” Chrom sat up, pushing the blankets away, he stared at Robin for another moment before bringing a hand up to rub circles in Robin’s back. It was comforting, but not the kind he needed. He’s killing you. He’s killing you. He’s killing you. He’s going to kill you.

You can’t let him know.

Robin took a deep breath, trying to quell his shaking. From the corner of his eye he could see Chrom visibly relax. 

“I... “ Robin’s voice was raw, the tone and pain surprised him for a moment before he cleared his throat and sighed. “I’m okay.”

Chrom continued rubbing circles into his back as he spoke softly, as if afraid to disturb the room after Robin’s fit. “I’m sorry you’re suffering like this.”

Robin felt the urge to laugh bubble up in his throat but he only managed a flickering sigh. You would be even more if you knew the truth. 

“How about we do something active today? Perhaps a walk around downtown to map out some key locations for the festival. The walking and fresh air will do you good. What do you say?” 

Robin glanced out his window. The fragile light from before had shattered into dust particles as the sun rose in the sky. “That sounds like a great idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update y'all. school has been seriously wild. anyways, never fear, I s2g i have this whole thing mostly written so all i need is time for editing lol


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _though I — of course —  
>  thought it was wonderful _

When Robin opens his eyes it is still dark. He struggles for a moment to identify what woke him, beside him Chrom shifts and whines. Sleep pulls Robin’s bones back to the bed, but he manages to sit up and turn to try and make out Chrom’s sleeping figure. 

Now that Robin is beginning to wake up he can hear Chrom’s panicked breathing and hear the bed creaking as he tosses and turns. He realizes that perhaps this arrangement was more than just for his cough.

Of course it was, his mind supplies for him as he reaches over and tries to shake Chrom awake, why else would-?

Robin lets that string of thought fray away before it grows to strangle him, focus on what’s in front of you, midnight is no time to plan. 

“Chrom,” Robin tries, his voice is scratchy and raw from sleep and petals but he clears his throat and tries again to wake Chrom from whatever nightmare he’s having. Chrom flinches away from Robin’s hand, but he shakes harder anyways. “Chrom it’s not real, you need to wake up,” 

Robin can barely make out Chrom’s outline, let alone any discernible shapes or movement beyond vague shaking, so when Chrom’s eyes shoot open and a fist flies out, Robin is clocked clean in the jaw. 

“Fuck!” Robin cries as his vision temporarily goes white, it takes him a moment to try to blink away the colorful distroation and regain what little night vision he had acquired initially. It silent for a moment, all that Robin can hear is their breathing; Chrom’s is fast and panicked, and his own is raspy and tickles the back of his throat. 

“Robin?” 

Chrom’s voice is soft, rough from sleep, and teetering on almost-scared, Robin nearly forgets about his sore jaw and instead smiles softly, trying not to focus on the warmth filling his chest. He clears his throat and tries to scooch over closer to Chrom, but he’s not lying where he was earlier, and Robin has to feel around the bed for a minute before he brushes Chrom’s back, “Yeah?” 

“I…” He twisted around, and Robin felt a hand experimentally touch his shoulder before sliding up his neck and gently cradling his jaw. Robin inhaled as Chrom gently ran his fingers across his jaw and cheek. His head felt like it was buzzing, and nervousness shot up Robin’s spine as he tried to control his breathing. He closed his eyes and tried to focus on something else, and he had half the mind to pull Chrom’s hand away, but his palms itched to touch. 

Robin gives into the temptation and places a hand over Chrom’s. He feels a smile curl over his lips and knows it won’t help his case, “Stop touching, “ he orders, “you’ll make it worse.”

Chrom chuckles softly in the darkness. It radiates out into the shadows and Robin feels the pressure in his throat grow. “It’s already going to bruise,”

“You don’t know that,” Robin says, gently removing Chrom’s hand from his jaw and instead curls his hands around it in his lap. “It’s too dark to see anything.”

“I have, er, a rather hard punch. “ 

Robin snorted, Chrom finally pulls his hand away and Robin is simultaneously relieved and disappointed. “I know, I’ve learned the hard way.”

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to-” Chrom’s voice is guilty and it squeezes Robin’s chest. He closes his eyes and flops back down on his pillow, a small cough is shaken out of him, but he doesn't hear Chrom react. “I know you’re sorry. If anything it’s my fault, I was the one who woke you. But you didn’t look like you were having the best dreams, I, I didn’t want you to suffer.” 

Robin feels the bed dip as Chrom lays back down beside him, and Robin tries to imagine he can see Chrom with his hands behind his head and eyes to the skies, but only faint outlines come from the darkness. 

“Robin,” Chrom begins, “Can I speak to you about something?”

Robin frowns, “Of course, I’m more concerned you felt you had to ask.” 

“Do you ever... “ He trailed off, voice floating away in the dark

Robin waited patiently for him to continue. Chrom was no poet, but he had a particular charm, a way with words, a charisma that was hard to refuse. It was easy to wait in the dark for him to continue, it was easy to lie beside him and listen. What was hard was lying still; resisting the urge to lay his head on Chrom’s shoulder, or run his hands down Chrom’s chest. Too often Robin felt cheated by this position, how good of an idea could this really be if he felt jittery all night, if his throat and lungs ached, if he awoke groggy and pained for lack of sleep. 

Then Chrom clears his throat and begins to speak, and all the protest and complaints fall away. “Do you ever think about the war? The one with Plegia?” 

Robin made a face in the darkness, “Of course, nearly everyday. It was practically my first step into life, my first memories.” 

Chrom breathes sharply, and Robin feels as if he said something wrong. “And you still cannot recall your childhood? Your old life? Your parents?” 

“No…” 

The bed creaks, and Robin feels calloused hands on his shoulder, he can feel Chrom’s breath on his face, and he immediately flushes. 

“Robin,” Chrom begins, and ah, that tone is mournful, guilty, the realization only make him feel ill. “I am so sorry. I brought you into a war as your first experience of life; you barely even knew your name, and I still dragged you through hell.” 

“Chrom-” 

“ I can’t believe I did that to you, why did you let me do that to you?” Chrom’s hand tightens on his shoulder, near painfully, “Why are you here with a man who only showed you ruin and destruction. I won’t ever be able to correct that mistake, Robin, you showed me loyalty and I repaid it by bringing you to hell, by bringing you here, where you got sick and where no one can do anything. How could I ever ask you to forgive me?”

Robin realizes that Chrom is crying with a sudden jolt. Chrom takes it as a flinch and moves his hand away. Robin instead put his hands forward in the darkness, and they hit Chrom’s chest much closer than he anticipated they would. Robin follows the curve of Chrom’s collar bones and the column of his neck, coming to rest on both cheeks. 

“Chrom,” Robin begins, and Chrom shivers slightly beneath his hands, “Whatever are you talking about? No one is forcing me to be here, no one forced me to join the Shepherds, if I remembered correctly, you and Lissa were the only ones for it! I’m here because I want to be, and the Plegian War was a small price to pay to have met you.” 

And because Robin realizes what he’s saying feels uncomfortably like a confession, he coughs a bit into his pillow and tries not to think about the clump of petals tickling the inside of his throat. “- and Lissa, and Sully, and Stahl, and Maribelle, and Olivia, and Lon’qu, and all the other Shepherds of course. You;ve shown me wonderful things, given me a wonderful life, I don’t resent you, Chrom, and the only thing you have to pay me back for is that punch.” 

Robin feels a small smile beneath his fingers, and something blossoms in his chest, it’s uncomfortably tight and cloudy, yet pleasurable. “Now, tell me what this is really about.”

Chrom is silent for a few moments. Robin doesn’t mind though, and he spends the time picturing Chrom’s furrowed brow and blue blue blue eyes. The darkness leaves nothing to be seen, and every image is a testament to the moments and minutes and hours and days Robin has spent memorizing Chrom’s face, the tilt of his wrist when he swings a sword, the brave stance for the rest of the Shepherds he puts on when Robin tells him bad news. 

Robin realizes that Chrom hasn’t tried to lie to him like that for a while. Perhaps Chrom had realized that lying to Robin was a futile effort, or perhaps… 

“I’ve been having nightmares again.” Chrom says at last. Robin could hear the hesitation, the vulnerability, the tire. Chrom didn’t tell him this lightly, and that makes Robin’s chest swell. 

“...about Plegia, and the war, and Emm… and they’re horrible, Robin. I can barely focus on anything else, and I lash out when awakened,” Chrom gently settles a hand on top of one of Robin’s. “And what gets me through is my friends and family, because I know they’re safe, no matter what I see in my dreams, and I have enough happy memories to remember and remiss. But you don’t have that, Robin, you were born into war, woke up into it, I can’t imagine how that feels, what I’ve damned you to. What do you dream about?” 

Darkness, voices, rituals, magic, chants, the Shepherds, and you. 

“I don’t dream of anything, Chrom. I’m not haunted by it.”

Chrom is silent, as if trying to decipher a lie, but it’s true that Robin didn’t dream about violence, sure he saw Plegia, saw the sands and the bones and the Mad King clawing and screaming. But never about violence. It didn’t bother him. Robin didn’t want to analyze why. 

After what seemed like hours Chrom sighed gently, and Robin pulls his hands away. “I’m glad,” he says, “I’m glad you aren’t plagued by nightmares, I don’t think I could forgive myself if you were.”

“Even if I were, you wouldn’t be to blame. Now, listen to me, Chrom. You’re safe, your family is safe, the Shepherds are safe, we survived, and war isn’t going to come again. Whatever you see in your head, just remember that, okay?”

“Okay...Thank you, Robin.”

Robin smiled gently to the dark, “Just remember that I’m always on your side, Chrom, this isn’t the sort of thing you have to bottle up.” 

Chrom didn’t say anything else, but after a few seconds Robin felt a hand brush his, and with a tight ache in his chest, Robin laced their fingers together. 

+

“What do you think, Robin?”

Chrom twirls the spear around his back, it’s point is polished and mirrory, the shaft is a deep red colored wood with a leather grip. It’s a beautiful weapon, and Robin admires Cordelia's craftsmanship as he deftly dodges the spear, smiling as he watches Chrom impale it into the chest of a training dummy, straw spills out upon the armory floor as he smiles sheepishly. 

“Couldn’t even wait to get it out onto the field, huh?” Robin watches Chrom quickly right the spear and try to stop the flow of straw out of the dummy with a warm fondness in the his chest. 

Cordelia sighs from the doorway, “As far as your first spear lesson goes, you’ve at least learned where to point it.”

Chrom laughs breezily as he ducks out of the armory and Robin’s not the only who swoons. 

Cordelia and Chrom take up stance in the field and Robin sits down in the shade of the grass, fully intending to read a new book he picked up from the library on the mythology of Naga and Grima, but instead he’s caught up in the glimmer of sunlight reflecting off the tips of their spears. 

Chrom’s good with any blade, but the spear was something he had never mastered, and now he was retaking up lost opportunities. Chrom is lucky, Cordelia’s a excellent teacher, but what isn’t she excellent at? Robin would never express the sentiment, he knew how she hated to be called genius, but he can’t help but admire her patience. 

The clangs and thunks of their spears colliding mixed with with Cordelia's calm instructions and Chrom’s determined responses created a melody that made Robin’s eyes heavy and the words in his book swim in circles. He sighed, leaned his head back against the tree and closed his eyes.

When Robin opens his eyes the sky is painted in bloody reds and royal purples and the grass is stained with blue and purple shadows. He stands and stretches, then frowns, looking down at his hands. Something feels off, but he swiftly forgets and moves on.

Walking out towards the field in front of him, Robin notices a particularly beautiful swash of purple in the sky, as if a painter designed it so. He watches the sky transform itself into a canvas, abstract blues and purples and pinks mix and meld together. Robin watches, waiting for them to betray a pattern he feels, no, knows must be there. 

Instead he’s knocked off his feet.

The ground is black when it rushes up to meet him, Robin finds the grass withered under his fingers and frowns as he looks up at Cordelia. She plants her spear at her side and reaches a hand to help him up. 

Robin takes it, spinning his own spear as he stands up, “Do you knock down all your training partners like that?”

“When they’re distracted I do, a distraction can cost you your life on the battlefield. You know that, right?”

Robin snorted, “Of course I do, I-”

Cordelia steps closer, “Then why distract yourself?”

Robin frowns, suddenly defensive as he watches the colors behind Cordelia darken and fade. “I was just looking, the sky is beautiful.” 

The sky is now gone, in its place is a void of darkness.

“I wasn’t talking about the sky, I was talking about here,” She plants a finger on his chest, “You’re dying.”

Robin feels like he can barely breathe under the weight of her finger, but he looks her in the eyes anyways. They’re blue. Cordelia’s eyes aren’t blue.

“I know. It’s okay.” he says, 

“I don’t want you to die.” her voice is soft. 

He smiles, but it hurts. “I know.”

She suddenly pulls away, turning to look at the void sky, small pinpricks of light are beginning to wink into existence across the expanse. She holds out her hand, “Robin, come fly with me. I want to show you something.”

Robin raises an eyebrow, glancing around the black grass field, “Your pegasus isn’t here, kind of hard to fly without her, isn’t it?”

Cordelia grinned, “I don’t need Aurora’s help to fly anymore.” 

“What?”

Cordelia’s grin turns mischievous as she grasps his hand and jumps upwards. 

Robin yells as he’s suddenly lifted off his feet. Cordelia is drifting up into the void expanse above, and dragging Robin with her. The light would look like stars if it didn’t burn his eyes to look at. Cordelia’s foot pushes off an invisible step and they launch higher into the sky. 

Robin looks up at her, her hair isn’t even waving, it’s perfectly still in the pseudo starlight. Her eyes are focused upwards, but sensing his gaze, she looks back.

“H-how?” Robin manages to get out, his feet dangle loosely, his arm hurts, he’s definitely not looking down. 

“I simply learned to adapt, and get better, now I’m stronger. You should do the same, Robin.” 

“I can’t fly! That’s insane, hell, you shouldn’t be able to fly either!”

Cordelia smiled at him, “Our only limits are the ones we place on ourselves, Robin.”

Then she frowned, “Robin?”

“Robin?”

“Robin?”

Robin squeezed his eyes shut, and then blinked tiredly. The sun was high in the sky, and the shadows leaned back towards their casters, which meant a couple hours had past. He glanced to his left and was nearly caught off guard by Chrom’s fond expression, his eyes were warm and he was smiling softly, “There are better places to take a nap than on the ground, you know,”

Robin chuckled, something caught, but he cleared his throat easily. “Are you done?”

“Yep, just put up the spear, you know if you wanted to sleep you could have just stayed at the castle, I wouldn't drag you along just to bore you.”

The castle is empty and stale. I would miss you. I just want to spend more time with my friends. I just want to spend more time with you before- 

Robin waved him off, “Nonsense, the sun just made me drowsy, besides getting out is good for me.”

Chrom held out a hand for Robin, “Think I have a future with the spear?”

Robin let himself be pulled to his feet, “If you invest yourself, besides, I’m sure it will be great for relieving stress and staying in shape.” 

Chrom groaned, “Don’t tell me about it. I wish the only thing I had to do was read books all day to improve in combat.”

Robin rolled his eyes, “Don’t start with that, you’d be bored in an hour, AND you’d light something other than a dummy on fire; probably me.”

Chrom laughs and Robin opens his mouth for another quip, but he suddenly coughs, turning into his elbow, and he feels Chrom freeze up beside him. 

“I-” Robin cleared his throat, “I’m fine,” 

Chrom didn’t look like he believed him, but he didn’t argue. 

+

Robin awakes to darkness and warmth and something gently shaking him. 

That someone is, of course, Chrom, and Robin tries to banish his sense of confusion and vertigo as he sits up in the bed. 

Something is stuck to his throat, and Robin finds he has no room to speak. Chrom is still shaking him, and so Robin settles for laying a hand on his shoulder, while he turns his head and coughs. He cannot see them, but Robin feels the petals fall from his mouth and into the bed. 

“Robin-“ Chrom says, and his voice is desperate and panicked and Robin feels his gut drop. 

He turns, and puts both hands on Chrom’s shoulders, “What’s the matter?” Robin asks, his voice is hoarse and rough.

Chrom clears his throat, “I just, wanted to hear your voice.”

Chrom’s hand drifts up Robin shoulder and lays at his pulse. Robin frowns, and pulls away to bring an oil lamp to life beside the bed. 

Chrom’s eyes are bloodshot in the warm light, and Robin feels brave, or tired enough to rub his thumbs under Chrom’s eyes, inspecting the dark circles. 

Chrom lets him, sighing softly in the oil light. 

“What did you dream of?” Robin asked, pulling his hand away. Chrom catches it and holds it in both hands. A shiver ran up Robin’s arm as Chrom gently ghosted his fingers over the back of Robin’s hand.

Then he responded. “You dying. That’s what I dreamed about.”

Robin opens his mouth to make some witty remark or comforting gesture, something to make Chrom forget about his dilemma. Something that would have worked in the Plegian War, yet Chrom has learned, and he speaks again.

“I mean, I dream about you all the time,” Chrom says and Robin feels heartache lace through his chest. 

“But sometimes I dream that you died. In battle or in an accident, and I always think about my shorting comings. How-“ 

He cleared his throat. And Robin feels his concern deepening at Chrom’s glassy eyes and far away voice. 

“- How I’ve failed people. Soldiers I couldn’t save, citizens I couldn’t help, Emm, who I-“

Chrom stops speaking. He tightens his grip on Robin’s hand. Robin waits for him to speak, and he aches to reach up and cup Chrom’s cheek, or hold him in his arms, or kiss his temple, but instead Robin does nothing but sit and wait.

“And lately,” Chrom speaks, nearly silent now, “I’ve dream of you, dying of...” 

Chrom trails off, but his hand comes up to rest gently around Robin’s throat. Robin swallows and tries to think of something to say. 

There was nothing. He was dying. It was the truth. But his job as tactician was to guide Chrom in times of confusion, and so he spoke again.

“I am working on a cure, I've found some interesting texts, ones that will help.” Robin lies, equally soft.

Chrom is silent, and he withdrawals his hand. “I have eyes, Robin. I can tell you’re not getting better.” 

Robin closes his eyes. He didn’t want to have this conversation, he didn’t want to keep Chrom up, and he certainly didn’t want to plague Chrom’s nightmares. Where had leaving Chrom alone to lead Ylisse gone to? The man was in his bed! dreaming about him! When had his plan gone so ary?

“I’m trying, Chrom. Please, know I would never want to leave you.” Robin says softly, it was true. Plan or no plan.

Chrom watches him a moment longer before speaking again with that terribly broken voice. “If you say so, I believe you...” 

“I do.” Robin replied, “Now let’s go back to sleep. I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

Chrom sighs softly and nods. It brings Robin a rush of satisfaction to see Chrom so easily listen to him, in battle and not. It made him feel important, daresay it hubris. 

Robin closes his own eyes and burrows back under the covers. It is silent for a moment before Chrom’s voice broke the silence again. 

“Robin?”

“I’m here.”

Chrom’s hand brushed against Robin’s arm, and against the pain in his chest and the pounding of his heart Robin reached out and clasped their hands together in the dark. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Robin said, “Okay?”

+

“Robin, I’ve been thinking…” 

“Hmm?” Robin glanced from his book to Chrom, He seemed perturbed, glancing down at castle’s garden patio table with enough frustration to burn a hole in it. 

“I… “ he sighed, “Robin, who are you in love with?” 

Robin choked, a hand coming up to his mouth on reflex, but thankfully no petals came out. He cleared his throat and tried to think of a response. 

“W-why do you want to know? It’s private business,” 

Chrom frowned, little lines gathered in his forehead and his eyes narrowed, Robin felt a small tickle at the back of his throat and silently cursed, but he did not look away. Not now not now not now not now gods please not now. 

“Your er, Hanahaki is caused by unrequited love, right? Perhaps if you confess it could cure some of it!” 

Robin sighed, relieved he hadn’t caught on, “Lissa has been telling you things, hasn’t she?”

“You’re avoiding the question. Not to mention Lissa does what she wants, if she wanted to tell me something I wouldn't be capable of stopping her.” 

“I don’t think it works exactly like that, and even if I were to confess that does not guarantee that my love is returned. It doesn't matter either way. “ Robin ran a hand along the spine of the book in his lap. “I already know they don’t… feel the same way..”

He crossed his arms “But you haven't asked.” 

Robin winced at the tone, “No, I haven't but it doesn't matter anyways. There’s no need to subject myself to further pain just because you think it’s going to magically whisked away this illness.”

“And what? You would just rather wallow in your suffering? Not even try to get better? What foolishness is that? To simply waste away in cowardice?! What about what we talked about the other night?” 

“This isn’t cowardice, it’s cuting losses.”

“You can’t mean that, not when your losses include your own life!”

Robin fisted his hands, “Why can’t I decide how I want to die?”

Chrom stopped, his vigor lost as his eyes widened in surprise, and then realization, and then worry and fear. 

Robin stood shocked for a moment at his own outburst. He shouldn’t have said that. He shouldn’t have yelled that. He shouldn’t be here, telling Chrom this. He shouldn’t be-

The air caught in his throat, for a moment he didn’t realize what was happening, he was just staring at Chrom’s heartbroken expression, before panic began to set in. 

He clawed at his throat and leaned over the table as he heard Chrom’s chair hit the floor. This was an awful idea. His throat felt raw and he could taste blood but he couldn’t stop coughing and the flowers lodged in his throat wouldn’t come out and-

Oh gods what if they are full flowers

His chest burned and his vision was beginning to become hazy as he choked, suffocating on a physical reminder of his love. There was a sudden blow to his back and Robin’s breath hitched, before another blow sent petals tumbling out of his mouth. He coughed and coughed, trying to ignore the searing pain from his head and chest and throat and eyes and-

He suddenly sucked in a gasp of air, and then another, before he hacked up more petals and buds and parts of blossoms, torn before they could mature. Chrom rubbed his back as Robin picked faintly sweet petals out of his mouth.

“It doesn’t bring me any joy seeing you like this,” Chrom spoke quietly, hands stilling, as if he feared another outburst. 

Robin leaned against him, trying to calm his breathing, as the world spun around around them. He tried and failed to fight back the urge to sob. 

+

“Gods, hold still,”

Chrom grinned, “Sorry sorry.” and made a noticeable effort to stand a little more still.

His smile was infectious and soon Robin was grinning as well as he finished the buttoning up Chrom’s collar. A small tickle began in the back of his throat, and he coughed into his elbow for a moment to try and relieve the sensation. He could feel Chrom’s eyes on him and he tensed, but nothing was said. 

Robin walked across the room to pick up a satchel, ”By the way, you should bring your Falchion, we never know what kind of dangers the festival could bring, not to mention-”

Chrom raised an eyebrow, “You expect us to be attacked tonight? Wasn’t making the festival safe one of your top reasons for having it?”

“I don't expect anything, I just want to be prepared. You remember the Risen from before.” Robin finished placing coins inside the satchel before grabbing a handkerchief and Arclighting tome. 

Chrom took a step forward, catching Robin’s wrist, “Wait a minute, even if there is a fight, you shouldn’t be in it. I’ll take the Falchion, leave the tome.” 

Robin narrowed his eyes, “Regardless of my illness, I’m not delicate, Chrom.”

“You look it.” Chom looked at him with a startling sincerity, it was hard to be annoyed when he looked so concerned. 

Robin sighed, twisting his wrist out of Chrom’s grip. “Stop. I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s just go.” 

Chrom was quiet as they went about gathering the remainder of their things but as they walked out of the castle and into the courtyard he bumped shoulders with Robin. Robin tried to ignore the butterflies that blossomed in his stomach. He cares for you but he’s still not yours.

They arrived via carriage in a suspiciously empty square. Chrom stepped out first, offering a hand to Robin. He took it with a goofy smile and stepped lightly down onto the cobblestone. 

Robin glanced around, “Did we miss the festival?”

“No, the guards simply dropped us off around the corner to avoid gawkers, now come on! The night is young!” Chrom placed a hand on Robin’s shoulder and began to steer him towards a narrow road and out into the festival proper. 

The rapidly darkening sky made the glowing lanterns which lined the streets seem to grow and shine brighter and brighter as tents with food and wares and carts of harvest lined the streets. An excellent turnout, Robin notes as he walks beside Chrom, watching a woman hand out maple candies to a couple children. 

Chrom slides past a few people and arrives at a cart selling small pies. ‘What do you think, Robin? Care to split something?” 

Robin arrived at his side and glanced over the selection. “Lemon?” 

The elderly woman manning the station took their coin and handed them wooden spoons before moving onto the next costumer. 

“How is it?” Chrom asked as Robin took a bite of the pie and continued to lead them through the crowd. It was in all honestly a quite average pie, although Robin liked lemon, which made the uncomfortable sensation as he swallowed worth it. Wordlessly, he held out the pie to Chrom, and he leaned closer to capture a spoonful. 

“Eh,” Chrom shrugged, “I’ve had better.”

“Then do you not want it?”

“I didn’t say that!”

They huddled close and took turns taking spoonfuls of pie as they walked past violins singing into the sweet night air and men swallowing swords before awe-inspired crowds. They walked quite a ways before finding a scheduled cafe with patio seating. Chrom and Robin sat together and finished the pie before leaning back to admire the rich navy silk sky.

“It’s really lovely.”

Robin glanced over, “hmm?”

He smiled gently, eyes crinkling and shining in the warm glow of the lanterns. “The festival. It’s really nice, you did a great job.”

Robin waved, “It was hardly me alone. Plenty of people helped design and organize it, not to mention all these vendors and patrons, it’s quite a complex operation actually.” 

“But you were the one who came up with the idea, who made sure it was executed properly, who consulted all the experts, you’re the reason why we’re here, Robin. You’re the reason why all these people are happy… I’m in awe, seeing it on paper is one thing, but making it happen is an entirely different scenario. 

Robin could help but smile as he looked to the side, trying to hide the pink in his cheeks, “You give me too much credit, seriously.” 

“You’re the reason I’m here.” 

Robin glanced back at Chrom, he had this impossibly soft look in his eyes and a goofy smile and Robin felt his heart ache and chest burn. He cleared his throat, “Sorry?”

“I don’t even know if I would be alive if it weren’t for you, with your brilliant strategies and quick thinking.” Chrom tilted his head back and sighed softly. “ And I certainly wouldn’t be as happy, or successful. What I’m trying to say, Robin, is that I’m really thankful for you. Just, being here, with me. You could be anywhere in the world and yet you’re here.” 

He laughed softly, “I just think that’s so amazing.”

Robin was seized by a sudden surge of happiness. He laughed and stood up, holding his hands out for Chrom.

“Come on, let’s go explore the festival more. We’re here aren’t we? Let’s take advantage of that.” 

Chrom grinned and took his hands as Robin pulled him up. Robin steps seemed to be lighter, he felt giddy. Chrom really was happy to be here. With him! Even if Chrom didn’t return his romantic feelings, they were still close, being ill couldn’t change that. Robin wouldn’t allow anything to change that. 

Even it if meant he had to keep his affections secret until the day he died. 

A familiar tickle pressed against Robin’s throat and he coughed faintly, trying to dislodge it. God, please not here. He grabbed a fist of Chrom’s sleeve as his chest began to seize, he tasted sharp iron as he began to hack.

“Robin? Robin?” Chrom grabbed hold of Robin’s shoulders, pulling him to the side. Robin laid his head against Chrom’s shoulder as he struggled for air, petals falling from his mouth like a midsummer shower.

Chrom patted his back roughly as he coughed. His throat felt like it was on fire and his chest burned as he gasped for air before hacking soft pink petals onto the street floor between Chrom and Robin’s feet.

Chrom began to gently push him, and for a second Robin panicked as he lost his balance, but he quickly got his feet under him and relaxed as he realized Chrom was pushing him back towards the empty cafe. 

When Robin was finally able to breathe uninterrupted air into his lungs it had been almost a minute. He gasped as he leaned against Chrom, trying to steady his spinning head. He could feel a migraine begin to set in as his stomach rolled. 

Chrom’s hand curved around the base of Robin’s skull and pulled him closer to his chest. “Are you going to be okay?” he murmured.”We can go back.” 

Robin shivered, closing his eyes and shaking his head against Chrom’s chest. The slight movement only made him feel worse as debilitating pain sprung behind his eyes. A migraine and coughing. Perfect. 

Chrom’s chest deflated as he let out a sigh, squeezing Robin ever so slightly, mindful of how ragged he must look. How fragile. Robin felt a sharp annoyance as he recalled how he had just chided Chrom for calling him weak and fragile and now… You’re dying. It's nothing to be ashamed of. 

Are you ashamed of being weak, or of dying?

A sudden scream pierced the silence, Robin flinched as his migraine flared and Chrom dropped a hand to his Falchion. Robin winced as he opened his eyes against the dim light of the alleyway. 

“Robin-”

“I know.”

Chrom and Robin stepped out of the alley, the street was lit with lanterns and bonfires like a miniature galaxy, Robin closed his eyes against an onslaught of nausea. Cacophonous noise filled the air as people began to point and shout. 

The arm around his shoulder pulled him closer, “Robin, something’s attacking,”

Robin tried for a laugh, but it ended up sounding pitiful as he opened his eyes to his mind-splitting surroundings, “I couldn’t tell, Chrom, thanks. They need you. Go.” 

‘What?’ Robin missed his expression on account of staring very hard into the ground an attempting not to puke, but he could imagine; adorably surprised and even more adorably foolish. 

He felt Chrom shake his head, “You need me now. No way am I leaving you, not like this.”

Robin stood up taller, ignoring the rush of dizziness and lurching stomach, “They need you too, if you won’t take responsibility I’ll just go.” 

He took a step forward and didn’t regret it as much as he was afraid he would, before taking another. Focusing on his breathing and putting one foot in front of the other. 

“Robin, gods, Robin wait!” Chrom suddenly caught up, putting a steadying hand on his arm, thank the gods, “I get it, I get it. We’ll both go, just don’t push yourself okay?”

Robin closed his eyes again to make room for the ability to think amongst his pain. Chrom was more concerned than he was letting on, at point Robin’s only buying time. To what? Your death? You think that will make him happy? 

“Deal.”

Chrom left out his held breath in a long relieved sigh before nodded and guiding Robin through the crowd. They followed the commotion to its center point, people ran past, some in fear, while others slowly, fascinated with what they left behind. As they approached the junction of 2 streets Chrom suddenly stopped and Robin squinted his eyes to see through the dimly lit streets. It looked like a blazer had been overturned, a wooden shop stand had been set ablaze and the clang of iron against iron rang out an octave above the cries and shouts around them. 

“Milord!” A guard rushed up to the pair, “There are Risen attacking several parts of festival, the royal guard was stationed for defense but we’re a bit scattered at the moment.”

Chrom nodded, “Thank you, dismissed.” 

The guard looked curiously at Robin for a moment, before nodded and hurrying back towards the fray.

Chrom drew his Falchion before looked back at Robin, “Robin, stay out of battle, okay? I don’t want you hurt.”

Robin rolled his eyes, “Okay mother,” 

“I’m serious!”

He sighed, “I know.” That won’t stop me though. 

Chrom gave him one last final looked before dashing off into battle. He wasn’t dressed at all for combat, still in fine silks and linens. Robin felt a sudden rush of worry before he remembered who he was dealing with. Chrom would be fine. Robin would ensure it. 

Robin ducked into a bit of shadow, his vision was still hazy and his eyes ached like crazy, but that wouldn’t stop him from taking potshots at anyone he could make out. He pulled out a arclighting tomb from his robes and leaned against the wall, watching Chrom fight.

He was beautiful, truly. Forced to play more defensively he dodged and ducked, the risen had brute force, but their mindless frenzied strikes lacked discipline and thought, thus despite his lack of armor Chrom was doing well. His sword perfectly slid into one of the undead’s chest. Robin knew that battle was never a good thing, but it was hard to not admire the way he moved, with grace yet unyielding strength, with power yet precision… There!

Robin drifted his hand up in a lazy but sharp motion and called down a bolt of lighting to smite the Risen swordsman coming up behind Chrom. The air filled with ozone and crackled with static electricity as the undead was fried to a crisp. The light sent stabbing pain directly into Robin’s eyes but he still felt a grim satisfaction. 

When he opened his eyes again he shot another burst of lighting, this time closing his eyes first. Much better this time around. When he opened his eyes he didn’t miss the dirty look Chrom gave him before dispatching another undead. 

Robin grinned past the pain as he rubbed rough circles into his temples, his vision was starting to go really spotty. Perhaps the magic had been a bad idea after all. 

Robin’s spotty vision momentarily went dark as something slammed into the side of his head. He would have actually thrown up there and then if he had had anything in his stomach to retch. 

Robin barely found himself hanging onto consciousness as he tried to stare at the cobblestone past the aching blurriness and dark spots over his vision.

He distantly heard a shout as he struggled to turn to face whatever hit him. He was definitely bleeding, and probably had a concussion, he blinked to try to clear his vision, and was barely able to make out a figure above him, something raised above it’s head… 

Oh no, that wouldn’t do. Robin closed his eyes and blindly raised a hand, he felt the magic course through his palm before he felt it in the air. A crack of lighting rang true as the telltale thump of a body hitting the ground landed before Robin. 

He laid back, staring at the sky and the building looming above him as he tried to catch his breath. The scenery was mercifully dark, Robin was starting to wish he had some kind of healing magic, but perhaps he had passed his due date to learn. 

A thud behind him made him flinch, but he quickly relaxed as Chrom’s face filled his vision. He looked panicked, eyes wide and fearful. He had a thin cut on his cheek, and without thinking Robin reached up to wipe away a thin trail of blood from it. 

“What were you thinking?” he hissed, running hands under Robin’s head and across his shoulders.

Robin gasped as Chrom touched the bloodied side of his head, “W-watching your back, of course. You needed it.” Watching you, of course.

Chrom gave him a look of equal parts disappointment and fear. Robin’s breath caught in his throat as he read the unspoken message. You scared me.

Chrom glanced over his shoulder, “Hey! Can I get a healer over here?” 

Robin closed his eyes against the commotion. Perhaps it had been a mistake but… but his life hadn’t ended yet, no sense in acting like it has already. He was not delicate, just ill. His magic might have helped bore his Hanahaki, but it was not squashed by it. 

“You’re going to be okay, Robin, I promise.” A hand brushed his bangs away from his face as Robin descended into darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> action scnenes..... scary
> 
> we're almost to the end! thank you so much to everyone whos read or commented or left a kudo, i really appreciate y'all!


	5. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same._

Robin opened his eyes slowly, squinting against the bright daylight that slid into the room with purpose and presence. He sighed and tried to roll over and avoid the light, sleep longer if he could, but a weight was laying upon his legs and restricting his movement.

Robin begins to fully wake up as pain springs into the back of his head and a dull throb seems to settle into every inch of him. A painful rasp in his throat doesn’t allow him to forget his hanahaki, and when he opens his mouth to try to speak all his voice does is crack.

The weight on his legs lets up, and suddenly someone clasps his hand, “Robin!” a voice cries, and Robin blinks and finds himself looking at Chrom. 

His hair is astray, like when he’s just woken up, and his eyes are wide and relieved and adoring. 

“Robin, how are you feeling? Are you okay? Do you need water?”

Robin felt sick, and the bottom of his stomach seems to drop as he realized that Chrom had stayed here all night. Or perhaps multiple days, however long he was sleeping. And Chrom was fixing Robin with such a look of tenderness, of relief and concern that it made Robin’s heart twist in his chest. 

There must have been something in Robin’s expression, because Chrom frowns. When he does the room seems to darken in perspective and Robin feels even worse when Chrom cups his cheek, and says “Robin?” in that unsure concerned voice of his and all of the sudden it’s too much. 

Robin closes his eyes and coughs. It hurts, more than usual. A combination of his injury and raw throat from the morning and maybe something else. Every shake of his shoulders corresponds to a pounding in his head, and Robin closes his eyes tight enough to see colors. 

He feels Chrom’s hands dance frantically across his body, clutching his shirt, patting his back, trying to learn him forward, and Robin knows Chrom is saying something, but he can’t seem to hear it over the cacophony in his head. 

There’s a moment where Robin was sure he had almost blacked out, yet he opens his eyes wearily. His throat and chest felt like they were on fire, and his headache beat steadily away like a war drum. It takes him a moment to find his bearings. His vision is shadowed, he finds himself pressed up against soft fabric, and pushes a hand against it in an attempt to ground his woozy mind. 

Robin is squeezed, and suddenly he feels a vertigo as he realizes he’s not laying down, but sitting up. Chrom holds him tighter, pressing him closer to his shaking chest. Robin realizes Chrom is crying. 

It’s jarring, seeing him cry. He wasn’t the sort to, and neither was Robin, but as his shoulders shook in silent sobs Robin felt his own despair drop a level deeper for causing this pain. 

Robin tried to pull away, but Chrom’s hold was iron. After a moment of struggle he gave up, pressing his hands flat against Chrom’s chest. He brushed away camellia blossoms as best he could and tried to regulate his own breathing. 

Any fit could be my last. 

And Robin felt an incredible sense of dread. He knew he was dying. He had known for weeks and still he wasn’t able to formulate a plan clever enough to keep Chrom from worrying, he still wasn’t able to find a cure, he still wasn’t able to pull himself away from his devotion. But if his life were spent in devotion to Chrom, in friendship with the Shepherds, in study of magic, was that truly so horrible? Chrom would move on. He must, if only for the sake of his people. Chrom had a life before Robin and he would have one after. Robin could not say the same. 

As if hearing his thoughts Chrom lets out a shuddering breath and leans his head down on Robin’s shoulder. 

“I’m in love with you.”

Robin froze.  
He felt his lips move to say something, but his mind seemed to be stalling. 

Chrom nodded against his shoulder. “I love you so much, when I think about the future I think about spending it with you, when I think about waking up every morning I want it to be with you. When I fight I want you to be watching my back and when I lead I want you to be by my side. You’re my other half, Robin, when I think about life I think about you. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you, please understand, I just cannot sit back and watch you suffer.”

His voice broke and he clutched Robin to the point of pain, burying his head into Robin’s neck. “I don’t think I could live without you, we’re two parts of one whole, I- gods Robin- I’m not just spouting poetry I MEAN it. I don’t know what I would do without you. I love you… so much I don’t know what to do about it and now I don’t even know how much longer you’ll be alive. I’ve spent so long being a coward because I was afraid of driving you away, I don’t know if I could bear to be parted and now you’re-” 

Chrom cuts himself off and silently shuddered. Robin had gone still in his grasp, mind whirring. 

“You…. you’re…. in love… with me?” 

Chrom is quiet, head still buried in Robin’s shoulder. 

“Yes.” he whispered softly

An odd emotion began to inflate within Robin’s chest, he gently tapped his fingers against the fabric of Chrom’s shirt as he felt his heart lift. Loved him.

Robin smiled, light and easy and gently pushed on Chrom’s chest, to see Chrom’s face to look at him to kiss him like Robin had dreamt about for months because now that’s finally and option; but Chrom only clutched him harder. Robin coughed on a laugh, and petals fluttered in his throat. “Chrom let me go,”

“Robin please I-“ 

“Let me go!”

Chrom suddenly pushed him away and Robin lost his balance for moment, throwing a hand out to catch himself on the bed. Chrom looked to side and Robin could see that he really was crying, eyes blotchy and red and his cheeks were damp and-

Robin grabbed Chrom’s collar and pulled him back. Chrom followed easily, still not looking at him, and Robin felt his chest twist as he cupped Chrom’s cheek and turned his head. 

Robin met their lips carefully, Chrom jumped a little at the contact, but quickly curved a hand around the back of Robin’s head and pulled him closer together. Robin thought his whole body must have been shaking and after he felt he couldn’t stand it anymore Robin pulled back.

“I love you, too” he said hoarsely, and leaned back to kiss Chrom again, murmuring IloveyouIloveyouIloveyou against his lips as if the words would fade away if he didn’t say them enough.

When they separated again this time it was Chrom, he pressed their foreheads together.

“I don’t want you to die.” He whispered, as if they were in conspiracy, as if Robin had a choice, as if he wanted to die.

Robin looked at him for a moment; studying his blue blue eyes and the shape of his cheeks and the sweep of his hair and Robin watched his face fall as he stayed silent.

“I know,” said Robin, feeling a terrible sense of deja vu. “It’s okay.”

“Please don’t say that!” Chrom cried, “It’s not okay!”

Robin closed his eyes and let out a shuddering sigh. No petals slipped out, but Robin wasn’t thinking about it as he pulled Chrom closer by the front of his shirt. Robin rested his head against Chrom’s chest, and stared hard at the stone walls and soft linens on the bed. His head hurt, he was still injured, but the… the… the festival!

Robin sat up straight suddenly, “Chrom, what happened to the festival?”

He blinked his impossibly blue eyes and his brow furrowed in confusion and Robin was swept away by a surge of love, “What? Nevermind that now-” 

“Of course we’re minding it! The people are safe, aren’t they?” 

Chrom smiled, amusement crinkled in the corners of his eye, “Yes, they’re all fine, not a single civilian casualty, but you on the other hand...” 

Robin waved him off, “I’m a professional, I knew what I was doing.” 

“Robin, please” and Chrom grabbed his arm, “be more careful, I don’t want anything to happen to you.” 

Robin laughed breathily, “I’m fine, a headache is no worse for wear-”

Chrom’s hand brushed the bandages on the side of Robin’s head as he winced in pain, “You really scared me. I think you scare me just about every day.” 

Robin gently caught Chrom’s hand, lowering it to his lap, turning over calluses and veins and lines thoughtfully. “Well I haven’t forgotten anything so it’s not the worst injury I’ve suffered, and I am here, alive, now, we both are. I think that’s…” 

Robin trailed off in favor of looking at Chrom meaningfully. Some kind of clouds had lifted upon his heart with Chrom’s confession. Repressed ideas and thoughts and feeling floated to the surface, images of Chrom’s fond face, imprints of his hands. Robin felt foolish now, to think Chrom wasn’t in love with him, but well was to think the opposite so contrary? For the first time in months Robin felt like a weight has been pulled off his chest, as if he weren’t drowning in his own misery anymore. If he were to die, then shouldn’t it be like this? With Chrom by his side, like every other battle they had fought before? And who’s to say he’ll die? An excited trill ran through Robin’s spine, he realized that previously he had perhaps not even wanted to live with such a heavy weight on his psyche, he had accepted his death as some kind of consequence of failure, a death to be earned by being foolish or by inconveniencing Chrom, but now he realized how truly foolish that notion was! He didn’t have to die, he never did, there was a kind of strength in the charsis, and Robin felt a surge of-

“Robin? Are you awake in there?” Chrom shook his shoulder, a hint of panic in his voice, but otherwise he was smiling fondly. 

“Yes! I, uh-” 

Chrom laughed, a little thin and soft, but relievedly so. 

Robin squeezed Chrom’s hand, “I was thinking about, about the future. Our future.”

Chrom smiled blindingly, fondness seemed to radiate from his smile and he leaned forward, “That sounds most agreeable, as soon as you rest up howev-”

“ROOOOOOOOOOBBBBBBBIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!”

A terrified shriek of a nurse served as the pre-warning for the door to the medic room slamming open. Lissa slid inside, momentum from running down the hall earlier still carrying her. She was holding her staff in one hand, and the other was out for balance as her thin soled silk shoes slid across polished stone. 

“ROBIN HOLY SHIT!”

“Lissa!” Chrom gasped while Robin laughed. 

She splayed her arms out and caught herself on the bed frame while her legs kept moving, nearly dragging her away again. “I heard you woke up! What were you even thinking??” 

Robin laughed again, he couldn’t help it, and as he did a familiar choking sensation came with it. Only this time, he cleared his throat awkwardly and it was over. Robin breathed experimentally, and found his throat clear. He pulled a petal from his mouth, and found it discolored. 

“Wooaahh it’s turned an off color!” Lissa found her feet and stood up to lean over the bed and inspect the petal in Robin’s hand, “Maybe you’re getting over it! And all it took was a good whack to th-”

“Lissa!” 

Robin felt an odd feeling rise in his chest, it took him a minute to identify it as joy. The linens under him were warm and the sun falling through the window was bright and Lissa’s face wore a hundred watt smile and Chrom’s voice was falling through space, warm, bright, amused and aback. 

For the first time in months, Robin felt himself take flight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh my god. its done! 
> 
> firstly I must apologize for leaving you guys for so long on a cliffhanger! truthfully I had the final chapter written, but as we neared closer and closer I realized i didn't quite like it anymore. soooooooo i left it forever and couldnt seem to write anything i liked, until tonight, i sat down and made this in a hour and a half. I'm posting this before i loose my mettle and leave the fic for another couple months. Anyways, thank you SO MUCH for reading!!! I can't express how much your guys comments and kudos make me happy. I truly feel guilty for taking so long, but at least its completed now. I feel so well! 
> 
> ive discovered quite a taste for writing across the course of this fic, mostly in other things ( i have been writing A LOT) but this fic framed it all!!!!!!! I OG wrote it bc there weren't any male!robin x Chrom that i liked, and no hanahaki disease, which is my fav trope lol. 
> 
> If you like my writing, I'm posting another drabble tonight called _Crush_ , i wrote it while playing awakening and it's about sumia and robin discussing their crushes (or not so much a crush) on Chrom!
> 
> At the end of all my rambling, this was an open love letter to fire emblem awakening. Not my first ever published fic, but one of the couple few, and my second ever on ao3. Who knew fire emblem is what would push me to finally publish! Thanks to @Solarmin for getting me into fire emblem as well as giving me ideas for this fic. I hope you enjoyed, i hope you have a nice evening, and thank you once again for reading! 🎕


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